Champion of Meridia
by SendTheKhajiitElsweyr
Summary: When a death-bound Imperial makes a deal with a daedra for his life, he gets more than he bargained for when she sends him on an epic journey! Follow him and the party he builds on their epic adventure across Skyrim! Will include all of Skyrim! Complete with realistic travel mechanics, adventure, romance, action, and humor! Set shortly before Skyrim. Why not give it a try?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone. This is a Skyrim story I've been thinking up for awhile. I hope to eventually have them travel and explore every corner of Skyrim! They will interact with and explore a certain area before moving on to another. Some songs featured in the story may be written by** **Anna Castiglioni, they are used with permission.**

Falkreath was a good start for Darius' trip to Skyrim.

His horse, Dominion, clopped down the cobblestone road on metal-clad hooves. It had taken him here from the Imperial City and had grown very accustomed to Darius, his most common rider. The Imperial held the reins loosely, his hands resting on his lap. He only need lean his body slightly to signal the horse to respond to the curves in the road.

Falkreath was small; from his vantage point on a horse Darius could see most of it. (even in the dark.) Although he had not seen anything else of Skyrim, he assumed it was on the smaller side of the hold city scale. It was comprised of short, thatched roof, wooden houses on a stone foundation. He spotted a shop and inn, recognizable from their carved wooden signs. Several men and women milled around the village. A burly man split wood beside a house while two children dodged about him. They ran to a woman on her knees, weeding her home-front garden. A handful of guards patrolled up and down the road.

"Stop, outsider!" A city guard yanked on Dominion's reins, pulling him to a stop. The stallion whinnied in disagreement and bucked its head, but was quickly calmed by Darius. He had to hide his annoyance at the rude act of grabbing another man's horse. Darius knew of the Nord's infamous distrust for other races, and dared not scold the guard. Darius optimized that he was an Imperial, and this was a province under control by the Imperial Legion.

"Greetings, neighbor." Darius flashed a smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I could ask the same, but without the pleasure." The guard's helmet seemed to leer at him. Darius gulped unintentionally, no sweet-talking his way out of this one. Even the elk on the guard's shield seem to stare with judging eyes.

"I'm just a traveler passing through." Darius swept an arm over his horse's saddle bags, which were brimming with supplies necessary to build a camp. The guard would spot hides, iron pots, a sleeping roll, and some food. "Come to hunt and fish in the lush, verdant Falkreath Hold. "

"And what of the armour you're wearing?" The guard sprang upon the chance to point out a fault. "Citizens don't wear steel armour, same for the mace you've got there!"

"You know better than I the bandits and beasts that roam the wilderness." Darius pursed his lips together and recoiled, showing offense that the guard would question his motives in an attempt to feign innocence.

The guard stood still, thinking. He _did_ come from the Cyrodil road, not the Helgen road. It was very unlikely for any Stormcloak spy to act in the way he did. Perhaps he was telling the truth. "Alright, get going." The guard released his hold on the reins and stepped back for Darius to go forward. "Don't be causing any trouble during your time here. At this time, you'll probably want to book a bed at Dead Man's Drink. Any materials you need can be found at Gray Pine Goods. Don't linger too long."

"Thank you for your kindness!" Darius waved. _If you can call it that..._ He mused within the confines of his thoughts. He pressed his heels into Dominion and it continued into Falkreath. Taking the advice of the guard, Darius tied his horse at Dead Man's Drink and headed inside.

The occupants of the inn barely took notice of him. Inside there were fewer than ten people, mostly old men and adult females. A man who must have been a bard played "Mogo's Mead" in the corner. Darius took a seat at an empty bar. It was quickly filled with a flustered ginger woman, running there across the building once she saw him sit down. When she saw him, she lit up. "Shor's bones...A handsome man in Falkreath!" Darius warmed at the compliment, even if she was just another flirting barmaid trying to get him to spend more gold. He didn't think he was unattractive, sporting heavy stubble around his lip and jaw. His short brown hair had a nice habit of curling into a gentle wave atop his head. Green eyes stood out against his face, like it would for any Imperial, Although... there was that nasty scar that cut into his forehead from the left side of his hair. Darius blinked his attention back to Nirn, where the barmaid was arguing with an old man in the corner.

"The meat is fresh, Dengeir..." She sighed, falling into her hands in frustration. Darius guessed she had gone through this conversation many times. "Maybe your sense of taste has withered with age?"

"Impertinence! You never would have talked to me like that when I was Jarl!" A withered voice responded from behind him. Darius' eyes widened slightly. The former Jarl?

"We had this same argument every week, even when you were Jarl." The barmaid said climatically. That seemed to shut the old man up, for he didn't respond and she turned to Darius. "Sorry about Dengeir. My name is Narri, is there anything I can get you, traveler?"

"A drink and a room for the night." Darius answered. Narri ducked under the bar and emitted some scuffling noises, but came back up with a bottle of Black-Briar Mead and a key marked "3".

"That will be thirty-five gold." She reported. Darius dug into his coin purse and paid for it immediately. "Thank you. Room Three is the one near the fireplace; it's yours for the day. If there is anything I can get you, let me know."

"There is one thing." Darius spoke up. Narri had begun to move away almost on instinct, and immediately returned to the bar. "I'm looking for work, have you got any leads?"

Narri's face dropped slightly. "Well, no... Falkreath isn't exactly the center of action in Skyrim, so there aren't any bounties out right now."

"How disappointing." Darius sighed, looking into his tankard. He flashed eyes above the rim to see a fidgeting Narri. He could easily tell she was debating whether or not to speak, so he gave her some time.

"There is one thing." Narri finally said. She looked around before returning to attention. "I feel terrible asking this of a stranger, but the people of Falkreath would be forever in your debt. You could stay as long as you like, and everyone would treat you like a hero in these parts."

"Don't be fooled about the type of man I am." Darius looked at her firmly. "I will help out in any way I can."

Narri's face broke out in a smile. "That is excellent! Skyrim could use more men like you, Imperial."

"Darius." Said man corrected her.

"Well Darius," Narri made sure to roll the name off her tongue. "There are a group of bandits kidnapping anyone foolish enough to leave the city's walls. Not much is known about them, but with the slave trade in Morrowind they're probably selling to them."

"Why would they do that?" Darius frowned. "There can't be many Argonians in these parts, and most Khajiit travel in armoured caravans. Anyone else won't survive long in Morrowind's climate."

"It's above me." Narri raised her hands in innocence, showing she couldn't discuss the topic much further. "Your best bet is to speak to the Jarl tomorrow morning. He's been trying to hunt them down for months."

"Thank you for your help, Narri." Darius passed her his empty tankard as he rose from his seat. He made his way to his room, followed by the jealous eyes of Narri.

"I have half a mind to ask to go with him..." She sighed, going about to cleaning his glass.

* * *

Darius saw the Jarl of Falkreath as a snake. From the way he looked to his posture and even his words, he was sly, cunning, and brash.

"Leave my longhouse, I don't want to speak to you!" Were the words that the Jarl greeted him with. Two Falkreath guards that Darius didn't notice originally stepped forward from the edges of the door and blocked his path.

"Excuse the Jarl," A female Altmer stepped in his path. "Any concerns you have can be directed upon me. I am Nenya, the Jarl's steward."

"I am here to offer my help in bringing the slaving group to justice." Darius wasted no words, trying to make his purpose as clear as possible.

"Oh!" Nenya's face brightened in the same way that Narri's did earlier. "Wow, a volunteer! This is something you need to speak to the Jarl personally about." Looking to the guards, Nenya waited until they had cleared before leading the Imperial to the throne and the snake upon it.

"So, you want to fix my slaving problem?" Jarl Siddgeir slouched in his throne, studying a clenched fist up idly. "I guess it's a slight issue after all. If they keep snatching all of my stock then there won't be anyone left to pay me taxes or serve me. Without my position as Jarl, I won't be able to reap the benefits. Frankly though, I've been enjoying the quiet around here lately." The Jarl looked up to see Darius and Nenya unamused, although the former showed it much more so. Darius clenched his fingers into his palm in restraint at the man's total lack of empathy or care for his subjects. "I see you're serious about this then... Well, I guess I could lay out a cash reward for you if you come back alive and with everyone." Siddgeir waved him off, expecting that to appease him.

"I have little use for gold." Darius crossed his arms firmly. "If you honestly expect me to take them all out alone, without an escort of any kind, you will need to put something else on the table."

The Jarl groaned and rolled his eyes. "Alright, I guess I have room for another Thane in my court. As Thane, you-"

"I have no use for fancy titles either." Darius continued, making Siddgeir scoff in frustration. "I want a favor from the Jarl of Falkreath, whoever it might be at the time I come to have it repayed."

"I despise your ideals of payment..." Jarl Siddgeir snarled at him, but Darius didn't flinch. "Alright, if it means maintaining my position as Jarl and returning my people to safety... I will owe you a single favor that is within my authority to grant. Is your greed finally satisfied?"

"Yes, in fact." As Darius walked out of the longhouse, he pulled his mace from his belt. "I am satisfied."

"Oh, and boy?" The Jarl called after Darius, causing him to stop and turn. "Slaughter them all..." The Jarl's face split into a sick grin that made Darius's stance weak.

When Darius left the longhouse, he immediately went to what looked like the blacksmith of the town. "Excuse me!" Darius called out, grabbing the man's attention. He left his workbench and grabbed a rag, cleaning his hands on the towel as he walked to the visitor.

"Name's Lod, I'm the blacksmith here. Have you seen a dog on the road?" The brutish Nord grunted simply.

"No, I haven't..." Darius frowned at the confusing question.

"I'm looking for a loyal companion, and people have reported seeing a big dog on the road recently. If you can bring him to me, there's some septims with your name on them."

"I'll keep my eyes open." Darius promised before raising his mace. "My mace has started to chip and bend over the years; do you think you could return it to its old strength?"

"Getting a lot of use out of it?" Lod joked, looking to Darius. He met a hard expression. "On second thought, I don't want to know. This should be an easy job, I'll be done right away."

"I'll go for a quick trip to Grey Pine Goods, and then I will be back for it." Darius said, to which Lod agreed. He took his time going across the town, knowing that he needed to give Lod as much time as possible

* * *

Dominion trotted slowly through the brush. Darius inspected the surrounding area carefully. The thick trees made it impossible to see far and practically begged for a sneak attack, so he chose to fit his shield onto his arm and grasp his mace with the other.

"They've got to be here somewhere, Dom..." Darius spoke to his horse. As was his old habit, whenever he was anxious or nervous he would spend awhile speaking to it. "Nothing around here makes tracks like that but a chain gang, and the heavily broken bush leads up here..."

Finally, Darius found the tracks end at a small pass between two large hills. He walked Dominion a short distance away for safety before returning on foot. He then checked his armour's fit one last fit before sprinting towards the pass. " _Let the sneaking be left to those who can't handle their problems head on"._ His father had always quoted in his childhood, although he never knew who from.


	2. Chapter 2

Darius knew he was in the right place when he turned a corner and nearly bumped into a female clad in studded leather armour. She had a shaved head and black marking across her cheeks.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be here!" She growled, reaching for the large weapon handle that was tied to her back. Darius didn't give her the chance, and immediately slammed his shield edge into her stomach, causing her to double over. He brought his mace forward in a huge overhand swing that slammed into her spine and made her drop to the ground. Darius wasn't eager for other slavers to find him, and instead continued to keep the initiative by sprinting down the thin trail.

The trail led him through the small pass before turning into a series of switchbacks that climbed one of the nearby hills. He looked up to see his opponents racing down it to meet him. Three, four, five, damn it there was lots...

A one-handed sword clanged against the half-sphere middle of Darius' shield. Since that was the only weapon the Breton had, Darius swung his shield at him and knocked him against the hillside. A swift kick sent him rolling down the hill. Only his lucky positioning of his mace stopped a war axe from slicing him in half. He luckily caught the tip on the different edges and folds of his mace, holding it in place. A warhammer suddenly slammed into the back of Darius and sent him tumbling forward. His armour saved him from the damage, but it still stole his breath and sent him harshly into the ground.

"Looks like we've got a hero, come to save the people!" An Orismer, the one with the warhammer, cackled. The Breton with the war axe joined in, stepping backwards to let the Orc go past him. He charged forward with his hammer held behind him, ready to end the boy's life quickly. Darius flipped to his feet and sidestepped the Orc. He grabbed his mace with both hands and hooked the head of the warhammer. The Orc stopped abruptly when his warhammer no longer followed him when he ran. With a grunt, Darius sent the Orc down the hill. His warhammer stayed, though, and he threw it into the chest of the stunned Breton and sent him down the hill, too.

Taking out those three out allowed a small lapse in combat, so Darius took the opportunity to charge up several switchbacks. He overestimated his manoeuvrability on such tight corners, and his feet slipped out from underneath him on one turn. He landed on his stomach, making a sound like dropped cutlery. A Nord dual wielder took the opportunity to send a downward stab at him, which glanced off of Darius' shield. He pressed the blade between the hillside and his shield, holding it in place.

The great thing about dual wielders, though, is that they have another sword. This convenient backup was currently swinging down at Darius. He brought up his mace and caught it on the shaft. The Nord growled within his dirty blonde locks, pressing down with his sword. He was determined to outmatch the Imperial. He must have given up quite easily, because he resorted to firmly booting Darius in the shoulder. He cried out in pain and loosened his hold on each weapon, allowing for the Nord to score a nice slash across his collar, just above where his armour began.

"Bastard!" Darius cursed, swinging his mace above his head. To the upright inhabitants of Skyrim, that looked like a swooping swing just above the ground. It crushed the Nord's ankle and sent him crumbling. Darius's adrenaline sent him back on his feet and eager to send the Nord down the cliff and, soon, to Oblivion.

When Darius looked back to the path, there was one last Nord running at him. Out of sheer frustration, adrenaline, and fury: Darius roared. The roar was more of a bellow, really. One of those tones that seem to come from the very soul and affect others in the same way. This particular Nord recoiled and stepped back. After that, he did nothing. He was easy to slay with a mace to the skull, for he wore no helmet.

There was silence. Darius calmed, happy to know that there were no more combatants. Now he just had to find the slaves after he disposed of the latest dead bandit, which was a quick job. Darius scaled the switchbacks to find that the hill was in fact a plateau. There was a circular area at least thirty feet in diameter, upon which sat many slaves. They were all huddled, tied, and forced to sit together. Darius guessed they were usually held at sword point too. What wasn't expected, though, was a bandit chief looking at him grimly. He sat on a wooden chest in full Nordic armour. A mace sat by his side, and a large Nordic shield was strapped to his arm.

"So you've come to end my life, and take back my slaves." The large Nord grunted, standing up. This action showed Darius that this man was taller and stronger than him, but not by much. "First you kill my men, now you come to finish the job and steal my rightful merchandise. Now that just isn't fair!"

Darius stared at him blankly, not speaking for awhile before finally retorting: "Knights do not converse with the criminal scum of society."

"A knight, eh?" The Nord burst out laughing. "Alright, let's do it your way then 'knight'. Since you don't wear a helmet, I'll take off mine." As promised, the man tossed his helmet to the side. He shook loose messy black hair that looked liked it hadn't seen a tub in weeks. He then took up, taking his mace with him. "My name is Cormun, what is yours?"

"Darius Cyprian." His combatant answered.

"Alright Sir Cyprian." Cormun snickered. "Let's duel, knight style. No magic, potions, or bullshit. Just good old metal, eh?"

With no other words, they lifted their weapons and faced off. The slaves dared not interfere or attempt to escape, for fear of hindering their savior in any way. If he was no more, there might be a different story. For now, though, they stayed patient.

Darius noted the man's armour, which was much bigger than his, as was his shield. Thicker meant heavier and in turn the man was considerably slower than him. Darius didn't know whether or not that balanced a higher defense, but he pushed the thought out of his head.

Darius stepped forward and swung his mace wide. Cormun easily glanced it off his shield and brought down his mace in an overhead swing. Darius squatted and held his shield up, taking the strike head on. The sheer strength behind the blow shook his shield dangerously. It vibrated up and down his body, threatening to knock him off his feet. Quickly after, Cormun swung his larger shield and threw Darius off his feet.

Frustrated at being knocked down so early, Darius returned to his feet and charged Cormun again. He swung three quick strikes that were all easily blocked before Cormun's man sent him flying.

The Imperial landed on his feet, but wobbled and swayed dangerously. Finally, he found his footing and held his shield forward, charging Cormun. The Nord held up his shield and the metal peices slammed into each other. Darius [planted his feet and placed his mace behind his shield for support, but it was no use. The chief threw his arms up and threw Darius in the air.

Darius landed with a cringe-worthy _thud_ before continuing to roll, skidding to a halt in front of the slaves. He let out a groan of pain and went slack, unable to force his body to move. His mace wasn't in his hand, but he could barely tell because his entire body ached.

Soft, warm hands graced his cheeks. The regular reaction of such contact would be to stiffen, but the touch of them immediately relaxed Darius to an incredible level. The hands pulled his head slightly upwards, and towards the female who owned them. "What are you fighting for, Darius Cyprian?" She whispered. "If you truly care... then make us your conviction, and you will surely succeed." The voice was a blessing to his ears. It wasn't _a_ voice, it was _the_ voice. Her soft words were pure bliss to Darius' ears. He could not fathom a human voice existing that was softer, gentler, and more exquisite as this one. It fell upon his ears like dropped petals.

He seemed to turn in slow motion. As his field of vision shifted, he saw more and more slaves look at him expectantly. He was their only hope. Who was he to fight for greed and favors among nobility when there were lives on the line? He had the freedom of many people in his grasp, and this girl caught him as he was about to let it slip away. It didn't matter how strong this Nord was, or how thick his armour was. Darius was determined to help these people no matter the cost. He pictured what would happen if he let them be shipped to Morrowind. Hung by chains for nights on end, beatings, rape, abuse, and tears... so many tears.

He finally laid eyes upon his savior's face. She was Bosmer, with pointed ears poking through glistening auburn hair. The strands shaped her face before resting on her collar. She wore rags, but was more beautiful than anything he had even seen. Caramel orange skin as smooth as its namesake covered her body. Her eyes were a warm yellow, like bottled sunshine. Between her eyebrows was a diamond-shaped mark, whose color was barely paler than her skin. From this, across her nose and cheekbones fell other, lighter marks that were messy and jagged.

"Thank you..." He whispered to her. She parted her shapely lips in a small smile, revealing pearly white teeth. Darius shot to his feet. A slave threw him his fallen mace and he caught it without looking.

"Come for another beating?" Cormun laughed, spreading his arms wide and inviting him in. Darius roared and charged, swinging his mace madly. Cormun stumbled and held up his shield. Seconds into the fight, he fell solely to his defense. He had to constantly turn and tilt his body to block the boy, who attacked like he had two maces. He dared not move to attack, because he knew that doing so would surely let him slip a strike in.

Finally, there was a lapse in the onslaught of attacks. Seeing an opening to the right, Cormun jabbed with his mace. Immediately, Darius slammed his mace into the man's forearm.

"Gah!" Cormun cried, stumbling back and struggling to maintain a grip on his mace. Darius held his mace in both hands and cried in turn as he charged on the brute.

Darius scored hits all over the Nord. He started by dashing past him and smacking his mace across Cormun's back. He then spun around to the front, using his moment to slam it into his gut. As Cormun doubled forward, Darius spun his wrist and quickly knocked his mace out of his hand. After another careful blow, he broke the binding holding the shield to his arm. He kicked Cormun onto his back and held his mace high, ready to end him.

 _Slaughter them all_

The haunting words of the Jarl made him nauseous and stopped his movement. He had insulted the man left and right, calling him a lying snake, but Darius had been doing exactly what he asked. Was he any better than Siddgeir? Darius looked to the captured slaves, and then back to Cormun. "No time for philosophy..." He growled as he swung his mace and flattened his skull.

The slaves cheered him on immediately. He searched Cormun for a key to the slave's chains to this roaring chorus. When he arose with it, they all stood up and cheered. Darius broke out in a smile, and out of pure animation he raised his arms and cheered with them.

The Bosmer girl was his very first target. He unlocked all of her chains before raising his face and staring her deep in her golden eyes. Wordlessly, he handed the key to another person while maintain his gaze. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "Thank you..." She whispered. "You saved us."

"No, you saved me." Darius whispered in return, placing his arms along her slim back and holding her close. He longed to know the feeling of her body against his, without his bulky armour on.

They both pulled away and met eyes again, but this time they both blushed. "My name is Arwen. Arwen Farstride." She explained.

"Why do they call you Farstride?" Darius asked out of instinctive curiosity.

"That is a long... and personal story." Arwen smiled sheepishly.

"Another time then." Darius nodded. "We need to get back to Falkreath, and safety."

When all of the slaves were finally freed, Darius led them back down the path. Dominion was waiting for them at the mouth.

"Your feet must be very sore from all of the walking." Darius turned to Arwen. "Please, you can ride my horse back to town."

"I appreciate the offer, but I am used to riding bareback. I should offer the spot to someone else who can properly ride." Arwen looked down sheepishly.

It was decided that anyone that knew how to ride could get a turn riding Dominion. Arwen and Darius instead chose to walk side by side all the way back to Falkreath.


	3. Chapter 3

**Super long chapter this time, please forgive me! XD**

The former slaves' return to Falkreath brought about a celebration not seen in Falkreath for many years, even though only a fraction of the captured slaves stayed with Darius all the way to Falkreath. Darius, however, was only present for the very beginnings. People cried from joy and excitement, running towards houses and shouting names Darius didn't know. Families ran out to meet them, ecstatic. The entire city was on the street, cheering and celebrating over the reuniting. It was quite a funny sight because the slaves were too excited to notice they were still wearing their rags.

Arwen remained at Darius' side as he reached the Jarl's longhouse. To his surprise, the Jarl was watching the party from his steps.

"Well done, Imperial." The Jarl muttered, looking over the city solemnly.

"Darius." The man corrected, although it was not with a hint of annoyance. The Jarl seemed to be a whole different man, and Darius couldn't force himself to be mad at the other side of Siddgeir yet.

"No matter, you've done a great favor to Falkreath and I thank you." Siddgeir turned to Darius and they met eyes for a second. "You're request is granted. The Jarl of Falkreath is in your debt."

"Thank you, my Jarl." Darius bowed at the Jarl, who regarded him with a tip of his head. He walked together with Arwen through the hold city.

"I have not known the Jarl of Falkreath for long, but I know that he is not his usual self." Arwen noted, watching him over their shoulder.

"I believe he truly cares about his people; even if the feeling is weak and rarely shown, it's there." Darius theorized. He smirked at Arwen. "I felt like hitting him last time we met, but since he showed me respect I showed him the same."

"I assume that a bow and formal greeting weren't part of your past conversations?" Arwen giggled.

"Wait... where is Dominion?" Darius froze, looking around frantically.

"Is that your horse?" Arwen furrowed her eyebrows, trying to recall her own memories.

"Yes, I had him when I walked in, he must have run off."

"Not so fast, friend!" A familiar voice called from behind them. They both turned to meet Lod the blacksmith chasing after them, leading Dominion by the reins. "I couldn't think of a proper way to thank you for helping the town like that, no reward or anything. Then, I remembered from the first time I saw you that your horseshoes were worn. I didn't have any family returned, but I felt like I should still replace them for ya. Only takes me about twenty minutes if I work fast."

"Why thank you Lod. That is very kind of you." Darius smiled at the blacksmith. "I am sorry to report that I kept an eye out for a dog on the road, and didn't find anything."

"Oh that's no problem." Lod smiled widely, waving it off. "Another adventure for another day, eh? One more reason for you to come back to Falkreath." Darius and Arwen smiled at that comment politely. After standing in silence a moment, Lod excused himself and went back to his forge.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say these people are excited to have you here." Arwen smiled at Darius. "They haven't known travelers and adventure for a long time, and they are ecstatic to have them return to Falkreath. That usually only happens when one has died."

"Huh?" Darius stopped and looked at her with confusion at her last comment.

Arwen stopped and pointed across the road, past the houses. There was an open patch filled with small stone monuments. "Falkreath is famous for its hero's graveyard. That's why the businesses are named in the manner of Dead Man's Drink and Grave Concoctions. Many a great hero and warrior have requested to be buried in Falkreath, alongside others like them. Jarls and even High Kings are laid to rest here."

"Stop! Hero!" Before they could take another step, Narri and another woman cut them off. "Darius, this is Valga Vinicia. She owns Dead Man's Drink." Narri smiled broadly at the chance to have her boss recognize her previous associate with the Imperial.

"Please, I'm no hero." Darius stated firmly. "I had help in my endeavor, I can't claim it alone. Regardless, it wasn't that big of a job."

"Not that big?!" Valga scoffed. "Even if a spare few, you brought our family members back to us! Why, there's not a thing in the world I want here more than my family. I'm glad to see Imperials like you doing good deeds in Skyrim, especially with the bad name we are getting in some holds."

Darius couldn't help but smile at the feeling of racial camaraderie. She offered her hand and he shook it eagerly.

"If you ever find yourself back in Falkreath, there will be an open bed and a warm meal with your name on it. On the house." Valga promised.

After thanking Valga and the other residents of Falkreath greatly for their generosity, Darius and Arwen excused themselves as politely as they could. "I guess it was all worth a cut on the collar after all, eh?' Darius joked, elbowing Arwen. She did not appear amused though, and furrowed her brow.

"You never said you were hurt! Let me see." She insisted, toying with the straps of his armour.

"Hey! Watch it! What are you doing?" Darius resisted.

"Oh stop!" Arwen flicked him, which made him stop with a sigh. She called over Zaria from Grave Concoctions, who happily provided a salve, thread and needle. While she was preparing it, Darius stripped off his armour and lay in a dirty black under shirt. The top felt corner was slightly dark from being soaked with blood.

"This is so embarrassing..." He muttered as he tilted his chin high. He flinched ever so slightly as Arwen sewed together his cut. "It barely even bled, he hit a bone!"

"Stop your complaining!" Arwen furrowed her brow as she focused. "I don't care how big of a man you think you are, injuries are injuries and there ain't a healer in town."

Darius sighed again, remaining silent. Arwen finished closing the wound and then applied the green salve on it, which smelled of fish oil.

After what seemed like decades, Arwen finished and they seemed to have talked their way out of the townsfolk's attention. Now Arwen rode in Dominion's saddle cautiously while Darius led the copper-coated stallion.

"The people of Falkreath are very kind." Darius commented idly.

"They have a large sense of community, being so small." Arwen's voice rose mid-sentence when Dominion stepped on a rise, making Darius chuckle. "They protect and care for their family, blood or otherwise."

"You told me you lived out of Falkreath in a hunter's camp, but where exactly might that be?" Darius asked.

"I travel with a group of Bosmer hunters. They constantly move the camp, and I recommended this road because it's a place they likely crossed and we could spot their tracks." Arwen explained. Darius listened intently, nodding with her. As he studied her, he noticed the effect that the horse's constant up and down motion had on her chest. He blushed and looked away, for loose ragged clothes had little shame for her generous figure. Arwen caught the strange act, but did not know the cause. She dare not pry, for fear of offending her new friend.

"Darius, why don't you sing a song from your homeland? It would do great to pass the time while we look for tracks." Arwen suggested with a smile.

"My family wasn't exactly the artistic type..." Darius replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He had shed his armour into his saddle bags and moved much more comfortably now. "Never heard enough of a song to memorize it, so why don't you go?"

"Well, songs _are_ very common among the hunters camp..." Arwen hummed as she considered several. They celebrated often in the hunter's camp and for no reason at all. People made up nonsensical songs that they would sing as loud as they could day after day until they grew tired of it, and then by that time someone would have come up with a new song. "I'd rather sing a sailor's chantry, if you don't mind. I heard it in my youth and, to be honest, it's better than any song our camp has written."

"By all means." Darius took a step away and spread his arms, as if offering her the stage. Arwen cleared her throat before lifting her chin high and holding the first note for an extra second before starting.

 _Ooooh have you been to old Wayrest?_

 _Where the people are obsessed_

 _With swimmin' round all undressed_

 _Swimming in the twilight_

The song was not what Darius expected, and he couldn't hold in a laugh. He made careful sure to end it quickly though, as to not interrupt Arwen.

 _Have you been to Stros M'Kai?_

 _Seen their Dwemer Orrer-eye?_

 _Where the lasses please the eye_

 _Like a Winged Twilight_

Now that he was prepared, he fully took in the song just as it hit the chorus (A period filled with many 'Hey', 'Ho' and 'Away we go!'s, all of which were 'Like a Winged Twilight' ). Even when singing so light-hearted and playfully, Arwen had a crisp, clear, incredibly voice.

 _Have you been to Anvil?_

 _Where Dibella's worshipped still?_

 _Ask for Mary at the old Fo'c's'le,_

 _Or A Winged Twilight!_

"I believe there's more, for sure at least one about Solitude, but I can't remember anything else." Arwen giggled.

"That's alright, I thought it was wonderful the way it was." Darius didn't realize he was smiling.

"You're too kind; I'm not all that good." Arwen blushed. Her pointed ears tinged pink, which Darius thought was incredibly cute. "Although, it was nice to sing to fresh ears. I'm sure the boys at camp are sick and tired of my voice."

"Hardly!" Darius seemed to take offense for her at the self-insult. "Why, if my clothes were made of silk instead of leather I'd hire you for my pleasure in an instant!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arwen said slowly, looking at him strangely. Darius took a moment to understand her meaning.

"Hearing pleasure! Listening to you sing!" He corrected quickly, holding his head in shame. Arwen immediately burst out laughing at his embarrassment.

"Don't listen to her lad, we often beg her to sing!" The canopy retorted. "The rest of us sound like rubbing stones!"

"She's too bloody shy to sing much, she must really fancy you!" The other side of the road joked. Together, two Bosmer fell from the trees. Darius grabbed onto Dominion's reins and pulled his mace out, pointing it threateningly at the two. They wore hide armour, but their visible weapons were all made from bone.

"Sildriel! Anrim!" Arwen leapt off of her saddle and into their eager arms. A blush remained on her ears from their last joke.

"I thought I would never see you again, lass." One of the Bosmer, Darius didn't know who was who, said with a sad smile.

"As did I." Arwen groaned at the thought of the possiblity. "But let us not ponder the 'perhaps', but rather celebrate the present! I am here, and this is my savior Darius!"

"Sildriel" The left Bosmer introduced with a bow "We can never thank you enough for bringing our dear Farstride back to us."

"I am Anrim. Sildriel speaks for the whole camp; we owe you a great debt, Imperial." The second copied him.

"Think nothing of it." Darius waved them off politely. Immediately, the two led Arwen and Darius to their camp. Arwen and the two spoke heavily the whole time. They spoke of the events leading to her disappearance and what she had missed, as well as the story of Darius saving her. Darius thought she was a touch lucrative when retelling that one, in which she portrayed him bursting in to save the day like some folk hero. He couldn't help but feel a twang of jealousy in his heart. He had been her staunch protector for what seemed like a long time, and he didn't like seeing her handed over to someone else.

They finally made it to their camp, which contained seven more Bosmer, two females and five males. Arwen was the youngest of them all, but not by much. The camp was in a clearing split in half. The west side was filled with orderly lined tents, and the east side was working on raising a bonfire and preparing to cook an elk over a spit. Several dogs followed their owners around, hoping for praise. One had a lolling tongue as it eyed the elk carcass.

"Come Darius, we must prepare for the celebration tonight!" Arwen turned to him with a smile. The group seemed to have a lot of similarities to Falkreath, both small and so close knit that large celebrations were held when only a handful were reclaimed. She led Darius to her tent when the other elves spread out to spread the news.

"I already like your hunting party." Darius smiled at her, which she brightly returned.

"They aren't exactly fancy or proper, if you couldn't tell by the way they get used to talking." Arwen chuckled. "But they are my family, and a fine one at that."

Arwen led him to her tent and she went inside while he waited outside for her. She asked him to keep watch while she changed for, "The camp was filled with eager eyes". He was glad he stood with his back to the tent, because he couldn't stop blushing at the knowledge of what was happening behind him. He could still see, but not focus, on her form in his peripheral vision when he scanned left or right. To him she was just a blurry patch of skin

"You seem to trust me a lot." Darius commented over his shoulder, eyes closed. "I barely know you, how can you be so bold?"

"You may have only met me today, but you've saved my life, walked me home, and now we are about to party together." Arwen replied with a grin. "You can turn around by the way, I'm proper."

Darius turned around, but found her still partially clad. She had changed pants and wrapped her breasts in a sarashi, and was in the process of straightening a shirt. It was black and made of a breathable, mesh-like material.

"You, uh, don't use regular underwear?" Darius couldn't help but ask.

"No, it's not logical in the woods." Arwen slipped the thin, tight undershirt on before grabbing her jacket. She wrestled over her head and placed it over her torso. It was tight, fitted leather covered with different shades of emerald. Scale-like material ran around the breasts, which had a lighter green cloth covering them. On her shoulders lay thicker pieces of leather used for shoulder guards, painted the same shade of gold as Arwen's eyes. She adjusted the tight fit it as she continued. "It's much easier to move around and hunt in this."

"Now that all of that is over, should we go to the party?" Darius asked, trying to hide his excitement. He had barley interacted with Bosmer before this, and no he was about to plunge into their cultural celebration.

It was dusk when they walked together to the party. Arwen immediately left his side to go catch up with the rest of her friends. They all rattled off words at the same time, slipping in and out of elven and human languages. It was a wonder there could understand each other.

"I'm glad you've taken a liking to Arwen." A Bosmer Darius recognized as Sildriel wrapped an arm around him and brought him down to sit on a log, making the Imperial jump.

"Damn sneaky elves..." Darius chuckled light-heartedly. "You don't need to worry about me, Sildriel..." Darius looked at him for a moment, hoping he had gotten the pronunciation right. The elf's expression didn't change, so he continued. "After tonight, I will be on my way north and Arwen will be yours again."

"Oh lad, that's a mighty shame." Sildriel pressed a mug into his hand, which he drank from without thinking. He nearly vomited. It was so similar to blood in consistency and taste, Darius would have sworn that's exactly what it was. "You see, she isn't always like this." He pointed a green-skinned finger at the group Arwen was eagerly speaking to. "That's just because she's been gone. Come three days and you'll have to fight to get a word out of her."

"That's strange; she has never been like that in my presence." Darius frowned.

"Farstrider must trust you then. She's a mighty judge of character, ya know?" Seeing he wasn't indulging in the drink, Sildriel snatched it back and chugged some down. "You see, she lost her family at a young age in Valenwood. She drifted for a long time from place to place. Kind of like a leaf in autumn, really. Swaying from side to side, never really of her accord and never staying long. She shuts others out of her own little world, 'cept you that is." Without warning. Sildriel got up and left. Darius was left with a smoldering sense of pride on the inside. Sildriel turned to him one last time and pointed, saying "You can't shake her now, lad!"

"Darius! We must dance!" Arwen broke him out of his thoughts by grabbing his hands. Before he could argue, he found himself being dragging him onto the grassy clearing. The elves began to play on their bone flutes, leather drums, and lutes. The tune was sharp and lively. It seemed to wake up and brighten Darius's very soul. He need not know the proper Bosmer dance, for the music would teach him. He relaxed and let both Arwen and the music be his teacher. What Sildriel offered him must have been very strongly alcoholic, because the rest of the night was a blur to Darius. He remembered spinning, stepping, and turning all around the campsite with Arwen for hours on end. They danced to never-ending music and consent cheers or light-hearted jokes from Arwen's friends. The two matched with perfect sync. The moment one made a move, the other already seemed to know what they intended. In the more sober beginning of the night, Darius managed to add Cyrodilic flare to the dance. He would spontaneously switch to a single-hand grip with Arwen and he would lead her along, spinning, throwing, and ducking her in every conceivable way. It was an endless chorus of exquisite music complimented by Arwen's pure, sweet laughter and smile.

Some time through the night, Arwen left him and the other elven maidens rushed at the chance the dance with "the queer Imperial". None of those dances shone nearly as much as his with Arwen's. He only remembered ruby red lips, deep elven laughter, the smell of lavender, and flowing blonde hair.

At another unknown time, he sat down with the men and drank. The men had abandoned their instruments and the women took their turn. Darius was quite sure he spotted Arwen working a flute like a master. They men had another that didn't taste quite so much like blood, luckily. He was introduced to many people, but remembered few names. They toasted to each other's youth and health before talking endlessly. The Bosmer were interested in Cyrodil, a place they had never truly visited, and a drunken Darius told extravagant, wonderful, and perhaps a tad stretched stories of his homeland. After that, each of the men attempted to tell stories of Valenwood, but they kept cutting each other off to add detail. Nobody could get a full story out without another person creating their own midway, but Darius understood the general idea of the province.

His final memory was of Arwen dragging him to her tent, and an elf from across the clearing call out to her to control herself, for he wanted to sleep tonight.

"Whas dat mean?" Darius had slurred.

"Let's just say that affairs of one's bedroll in a hunting camp is public knowledge. Walls are a little thin." With a smile, Arwen flicked the leather tent as a joke (for it was a basic shaped tent with two large, triangular holes at each end). He had no memory of the events between him standing, clothed and him laying in Arwen's bedroll, shirtless. He was too intoxicated to understand or argue when she crawled into her bedroll with him.

That night, Darius dreamt of auburn hair, giggling elven maidens, and slow, endless spinning.


	4. Chapter 4

As Darius awoke and stretched, the need to yawn took over his brain. He sat up, and immediately a brain-splitting headache toppled him.

"Owww..." He moaned, holding his head. It did nothing to help the worst hangover he had ever experienced in his life. Something stirred beside him, and for the first time he noticed a physical presence against his chest. It grumbled in disapproval of his movement. He could have sworn it even muttered: "Warm...".

That _it_ was actually a _her_. An Arwen, to be specific. She was in her underclothes and had her arms wrapped around her chest. She used this hold to cling to him tightly, apparently to better appreciate his internal body heat.

"Arwen." He whispered. He repeated himself slightly louder and she awoke. She blinked several times and looked at Darius' chest blankly. She took a sharp breath and literally jumped out of her sleeping roll.

"Darius! Hi! I was-" She rattled.

"Shh!" He held out a hand to stop her, covering his ear with the other.

"Oh, do you have a hangover?" Arwen's tone did a 180 and raised an eyebrow, ready to leap on the teasing wagon.

"Which is understandable, since I've never drank anything elven before." Darius countered. "What I can't explain is why I'm half-dressed and in your sleeping roll."

"Well excuse me-!"

"SH!" Darius reminded.

" _Well excuse me_ ," Arwen repeated in a hush voice. " _For lending you my bed and ensuring you didn't freeze. Regardless, you were actually a pleasure to sleep beside. You're warm like you've embers in your heart_."

"You'd know, the way you were clinging to me." Darius chuckled. Arwen blushed heavily in response. Darius noted that, like before, she only blushed with her pointed ears. "Strange, with as hot as your face is getting you'd think you wouldn't even need a bedroll."

"Oh shush!" She snatched her pillow by the corner and tossed it at him. He managed to dodge it, because he was sure if he knocked down again then he wouldn't get up again.

Complaining and groaning, Darius managed to get on his feet and out of his bed. He slipped his shirt on and moved to one of the logs from last night. There he sat, holding his head in his hands. Different wood elves stopped by and poked fun at him, laughing and jeering. Several sat down beside him, but he groaned and waved them off. This only seemed to amuse them more. Arwen came by with a wet cloth and he took it gratefully, pressing the cold material against his forehead. That seemed to dull his headache a little.

Right away, she came by with a hot cup of liquid. "Drink." She offered. "I gathered some herbs that should help calm your headache."

"Wow... thanks..." Darius blinked in surprise at the act of kindness. "But, how did you gather them already?"

"You've been sitting there for an hour..." Arwen deadpanned.

"Wow..." Was all Darius said. He took the cup and sipped from it. It tasted like dirt, but he would do _anything_ to get rid of his headache. He nodded his thanks to her once again before she left. He sat for a little while longer. He dare not guess how long, because apparently his sense of time was terribly warped. Just when he had finished his tea and set it down, a huge weight tackled him to the ground. He panicked and fought to throw it off, but the beast pinned him down and began to eagerly lick his face.

"Sultan! Down, boy!" Arwen said within periods of laughter. The husky leapt off of Darius and sat at her side. It then began poking her hand with his nose, eager for praise. "Good boy! Tackle the scary man!" she ruffled his ears.

"I thought I always came off as gentle and calm." Darius stayed true to his previous prediction and remained still on the ground. "Kids love me, you know."

"Maybe that's because you look funny." Arwen teased, holding out a hand.

"Someone's mean today." Darius mocked a pout as he used the hand to lift himself up.

"Do you have any plans today? I was thinking of going hunting." Arwen ignored him. "What's left of the elk won't last long."

"Sure, just let me get my armour on."

"You have never been hunting properly, have you?" Arwen raised an eyebrow. "Armour will make a lot of noise, limit mobility, and slow you down. The clothes you wear under your armour should be fine."

Darius grumbled, but didn't argue. He sat down at a log and pulled out a small red book, beginning to read. "Just let me know when you're ready to go."

After a few minutes, Arwen came back to his log. He went with her, but not after retrieving his steel mace. Since he was going out without his armour, he refused to be completely defenceless. He followed Arwen out of the camp, completely relying on her for direction now. "I will make one thing clear, before we get any farther." Arwen called over her shoulder. "I may have sat and waited amidst fighting once, against my will, but never again. I'm not some damsel in distress, and I won't have you thinking I am. Got it?"

"Got it." Darius returned. He had to resist the urge to rub in her face that he saved her from slavery. "To be honest, I almost hope we run into some bandits. I'm curious to see you in action. I assume you prefer the bow?"

"Was it the hunting bow over my shoulder, quiver of iron arrows, or Bosmer heritage that gave it away?" Arwen snorted.

"Yeah, it was a bit of a shot in the dark." Darius commented sarcastically. "Oh great Bosmer hunting prodigy, what is it we are hunting today?"

"An end to the sarcasm firstly, and after that most likely elk. I know how to make a sled to bring it back to camp."

"I knew there was a reason you brought me along, it was slave labour after all." Darius snickered.

"You got me!" Arwen threw up her arms.

Silence swept over them, but Darius didn't mind at all. It wasn't an awkward silence, but in fact a calming one.

"Tracks," Arwen broke the silence with a smile. She held out a hand to stop Darius and knelt down on the spot. She carefully ran her fingers over the ground and inspected something unseen to Darius. It looked like an ordinary old patch of grass to him. She stayed knelt for a long time. Darius held his breath, scared to break her concentration. He breathed with relief when she finally spoke. "An especially pale male elk with a slightly bloodied skull passed through here before stopping to graze upon the next hill."

"Impossible, you saw all of that from just the track?" Darius dropped to the round and saw for himself. She read the track like it was a handwritten note from the elk himself. Slowly, Arwen pointed to a hill a short ways away. Upon it grazed an elk with a slightly bloodied skull who hadn't yet noticed them. It was very large, with mighty antlers that looked like two upheld hands. Its short fur was a pale brown and seemed well-kept, despite his bestial intelligence.

Arwen, silent as a breath, drew her bow and knocked an arrow in a single fluid motion. Darius stood rigid; he was scared that if he moved to a better position the sound would alert the elk of their presence. Luckily, he was already crouched and in a relatively hidden position.

A double-pronged arrow sunk into the hide of the beast, causing it to cry. Three more soon found their way into its side. The multiplying black shafts and gray fletches slowly transformed its look to that of a porcupine.

Arwen threw her bow into the tall grass and turned on Darius. Before her could question her, she clasped a hand over his mouth and tackled him into the bush beside the road.

Cries and shouts of joy reached Darius' ears. He couldn't see through the grass, but he knew exactly where the hunters were thanks to their loud, thumping footsteps.

"The Pale Stag! The mighty beast has fallen!" They cried. Darius imagined them dancing and celebrating over this kill, which somehow meant the world to them. Darius looked over to Arwen for explanation, but her gaze was locked forward while she bit her lip in worry. Their roars and cries died down and replaced with grunts and groans as they began to work on something. The crack of broken saplings and the occasional rubbing noise were the only clues given the pair. The mechanical noises stopped and replaced with moving grass, which slowly died down before it disappeared altogether.

"What was that?" Darius breathed to Arwen.

 _Trouble_. She mouthed without looking at him. They rose together and Arwen fished around in the grass for her bow. She began to explain before Darius could even ask. "The Pale Elk, White Stag, or any otherwise worded variation consisting of a pale colored deer, is an animal of legend in Falkreath Hold. Legends say that any hunter who manages to kill the elusive beast will receive the favor of the daedric prince Hircine."

"That's not the White Stag?' Darius ensured.

"Definitely not, if it was the White Stag we would know immediately. It is not a regular elk. They must have become blind in their excitement."

"If that group was trying to kill the White Stag, then they were trying to contact a daedric prince." Darius checked if his mace was still at his belt. "We've got to stop them."

"I don't know whether the White Stag is a creation of Hircine, but if not then it's a Bosmer's duty to preserve such a majestic creature." Arwen added. "Do you feel comfortable fighting without armour? A daedra's appearance in Falkreath Hold could prove disastrous and we might not have time to go back for everything."

"That obviously wasn't the Pale Stag, and I think they will find that out soon enough. They will be easy to track since they dragged a bleeding animal to their camp, but they are sure to leave it soon once they realize they made the wrong kill..." Darius analyzed the situation, weighing his options.

" _So sliding through a window, he proceeded to roll the dice. A moment passed, he heard the sound of singing soft, and long. And then he-_ Uh... how does it go again?" The faint snippets of a song cut off Arwen. They looked down the path together to see a shriveled old Breton riding a carriage. He noticed them and waved, which they responded to with high, waving arms. He pulled on the reins and his horses pulled to a stop in front of them.

"Ho, hunters! What can I do for you?" He smiled. Revealing worn yellow teeth. "Come to see my collection of wares?"

"Wares?' Darius raised an eyebrow.

"Mead, equipment, tools, weapons, food, and much more found on Carian's Traveling Cart!" He waved his arm over his covered carriage box.

"Have you got a shield?" Darius shot to the side of the carriage and began to lift the cover off.

"Hasty one, aren't ya?" Carian chuckled. "I've got a couple ones to your left. For you, fifty septims!"

"I don't have fifty septims..." Darius muttered as he looked upon the shield pile, crestfallen.

"I'm sorry lad. But I can't help you. Wouldn't be much of a merchant if I handed out all my stock, now would I?"

"Please, you must understand. There is a grave danger to Falkreath hold and we need weapons to properly combat them!" Arwen pleaded. "We have furs and meat at our camp, would you be willing to trade the shield and perhaps some armour for that?"

"Furs, eh?" The old man scratched his scraggly stubble.

"Elk, deer, bear, fox and wolf." Arwen added with a smile.

"Only one problem, how do I know you aren't telling me the truth? There could be no hunter camps for ten leagues in any direction for all I know."

"We don't have time for this..." Darius rubbed his teeth together. He stared at the shield that stood several feet away. If only his conscience allowed him to make off with the damn thing!

Arwen reached around her neck and sent a shiny object through the air at Carian. He caught it and looked at it with interest. "The camp is south west of the large dead stump near the road sign. Follow the scratched trees to the hunting camp. Give the amulet to the Bosmer to show you Arwen Farstride sent them, and then you can reimburse yourself on hides and furs. When we return to the camp, if we find you did not return the amulet so help me I will track down your carriage and slit your throat in your sleep. Are we at an agreement?"

The Breton scowled at her attitude. "I'll be taking price and a half for anything you take, for my trouble. Now make it snappy!"

Arwen nodded to Darius and he immediately fished out a steel cuirass and the shield he had been eyeing up. Once he was done, he nearly avoided having his toes run over by the cart moving forward.

"What was that amulet you tossed to him?" Darius frowned.

"None of your business. We must make haste." Arwen snapped before dashing off. Darius had to chase after her while struggling to put on his armour and shield at the same time.


	5. Chapter 5

"Alright, let's follow this trail that they left" Arwen motioned for Darius to follow her. The two crouched down and made their way along the tracks left behind.

"It's almost like they wanted to be followed..." Darius muttered, running his eyes along the thick blood trail left by the stag. Along with that were two long marks cut into the ground.

"Why would they? To any onlooker they seem like nothing more than hunters. Also, how do you think that they would go about covering up the blood trail?" Arwen explained. "We should stop talking; we don't know how far away their camp is. Stay close to me and watch my hands."

Darius pursed his lips, but said nothing. He was definitely a more dominant personality, and he did not enjoy being so out of his element and inexperienced. They moved forward at a slow but steady pace. Along the way, Arwen would often mention hushed notes on their strategy, but kept them short and efficient.

Arwen held up a hand suddenly, making Darius stop soon after. Together, the two rose up a few inches above the grass to inspect what Darius assumed to be the camp.

"Not a step closer!" The words cut through the previous tranquility of the clearing. Arwen and Darius froze in place. Their eyes slowly rose before landing on a Bosmer pointing a bow at them while perched upon a tree branch about twenty feet up. "Stand up! What are you two doing sneaking around?"

"Just two hunters following a kill trail with jealousy," Arwen responded delicately. "Why are you in a tree pointing a bow at us?"

"What's going on in this camp is our business, so be on your way." He gestured the tip of an arrow towards the direction they came.

"I'm actually kind of hurt, you can't even recognize your sister?" Arwen looked up at him with bright eyes and a sly smile.

"Wha...?" The hunter in the tree drifted off, confused. He let off some of his pull on the string and rose off of the branch.

"It's me!" Arwen held her arms up high. In a single, rapid motion she grasped the top of her bow and an arrow from her quiver, pulling them both over her shoulder. When it was in front of her body it was already knocked and ready to fire, which she did with perfect accuracy. An arrow plunged through his fur armour and knocked him off the branch. If the arrow didn't kill him, the fall would have done the trick.

"I don't think we can fool any more with a ruse like that." Arwen knocked another arrow and nodded to Darius to ready his own weapons. "We need to attack while we still have the element of surprise, the camp is sure to have heard that."

Together, the two charged into the camp. It was made of about ten tents, a cooking fire, a tanning rack, and other attributes that matched Arwen's camp with scary accuracy. The welcome was the exact opposite, for when they were spotted every occupant reached for the handle of their respective weapon. They were dressed strangely, with the party theme apparently being animals. They managed to incorporate antlers, claws, furs and fangs of various beasts across Skyrim into their wardrobes. It reminded him of the books he had read on Forsworn, the madmen of the Reach. From what Darius saw they mostly sported daggers and bows, which would hopefully make them easy prey to his mace.

An arrow rang off of his shoulder plate, bringing his attention back to Nirn. He found the culprit immediately, another tree-climbing archer. A flicker of movement nearby gave away another one. Darius watched carefully for other arrows, blocking two before the foot soldiers met him.

A woman wearing antlers like Nord wore horned helmets slashed at his armour wantonly with a dagger, aiming for slits between the iron plates. A sharp elbow to her chin knocked her back, only for her to return immediately, charging with one of her comrades.

"Arwen! Do something about the archers!" Darius called out as he backed up, wincing as another arrow thunked into his shield. The musical _twang_ of a bowstring happened beside his ear, followed by a short cry and a smug "Done!" From Arwen.

Darius breathed a sigh of relief, it was nearly impossible to fight with his attention split like that. He faced his shield to his two combatants and charged them. Darius plowed through them and sent them backwards. The jarring impact made him recoil slightly, but his armour helped him stay afoot. The barely clothed hunters weren't so lucky.

"Bow to Hircine!" A bald Nord with enough war paint to fit in at a Solitude play charged him, waving a crude axe made from a stick, a stone and animal sinew. The axe rang off his shield, but not before making a worrisome _crack_. Darius stabbed the sharp butt end of his mace into the man's skull, killing him efficiently and giving him a few short seconds to inspect his shield. A not-so-hairline crack had formed through the wood of the piece, making Darius snarl. Two arrows sank into flesh behind his head, downing the cultists he had toppled with his charge.

Darius didn't notice Arwen's shots; instead too busy mowing through the hunters. They had only daggers and wore little more than furs. With his thick armour, it was simply a matter of how fast he could swing his mace while using his shield to block any worrisome stabs. An orc pushed through the masses, which at the same time parted for him with a look of respect. He wore no shirt of any kind, let alone armour. In each hand he wielded an orcish sword. Darius lowered his stance and held his shield out, ready for the new opponent.

The orc made no move to attack. Instead, he leaned his head back and let out a guttural war cry. His veins seemed to bulge as sweat practically leapt off his skin. When he lowered his head, a new flame burned in his eyes.

 _So this is the infamous bloodrush of an orc._ Darius gulped. He did his best not to be intimidated by the act, for he knew that wouldn't help him at all. The orc rushed Darius faster than he thought possible and sunk a sword into the wood of his shield. It split the wood and shoved the tip a hair from Darius' arm. The other sword came swinging overhead and hit the shaft of Darius' mace. Shaking the shield was an efficient way to rid it from swords, Darius soon learned, but it also rattled dangerously. Instead of trusting his life with the shield, he shook of the straps and swung his arm in front of the orc, sending the tattered shield into its jaw. It stunned the orc, allowing Darius enough time to smash his mace down upon the orc's left hand. Out of the corner of his eye Darius saw another cultist trying to join the fight, but an arrow sunk into his knee and sent him onto his stomach.

The green skinned mer stopped for a moment. His left hand rose to his face and he inspected the broken, mashed and bloody mess Darius had made of his fingers, the pain from which he didn't seem to feel. He shrugged and lowered his hand, facing Darius again with returning vigor.

From that moment onward, Darius never again underestimated an orc in battle. His opponent had twice the strength and speed of any man he had ever fought, and didn't seem to tire at all. It took all Darius had to keep up with his blows, and even then the orc still made it past his guard constantly. Darius knew if it wasn't for his armour then he would have been slain a long time ago. Other opponents tried to surprise Darius while he was focused on the orc, but each time Arwen slew them. If it wasn't for her, he would have been doubly slain. He would have to thank her later.

With a well-placed stab and then a quick swipe, Darius' mace was sent across the clearing. The orc met his eyes and smiled knowingly. "This is it, scum. Hircine curse you!"

Darius knew he only had one option. He wanted to save it as his ace up his sleeve, but he doubted he would survive to use it again if not now.

" _STOP_!" Darius commanded in a deep, booming voice that was not his. The orc lowered his sword and his face calmed. The look taking over his face was that of a regular civilian as all urges to fight drained from his body. Darius, knowing he didn't have long, reached for the orc's fallen sword. He picked up the blade by its crude handle and skewed it though the orc's stomach. Darius sighed in relief as the orc froze in place, shuddering as he slowly died.

A man clad in a bear's fur came running at Darius from the side. He half expected Arwen to take him down, but pulled his sword from the orc anyway. To his disappointment, the man made it to him. To the cultist's disappointment, an orcish sword cut him in two.

"Arwen?!" Darius lifted his head and yelled the name. His eyes scanned for any trace of her in the clearing. He found her far from where she once was, rolling and dodging a mage's spells frantically. He wore an elegant headdress made from an elk's skull and wielded what seemed to be a Firebolt spell in the right hand and an unknown one in the left.

"Arwen!" Darius called out again. "I'm coming!" As he charged, the drive to save Arwen outweighed his logical side reminding him he had a sword, a weapon he was uncomfortable with, which was orcish, a forging style that was crude and rudimentary.

He watched the mage ready his left hand before firing a bolt of purple lightning at Arwen. She dived to the ground, the bolt barely missing her legs before striking the tree behind her. Arwen looked up and saw the tree rocking, creaking like an old house. It finally decided on a single direction and fell towards her. A number of sharp snapping noises erupted from its base and it let out a screech as it came to Earth with rapidly increasing speed.

A shadow swept over her, followed by a crushing noise and a cry. Arwen raised a hand to her face to block out the light, which silhouetted the figure. She made out Darius's face, his usual soft hair ragged from sweat and battle. His lip parted to reveal a grimace from his exertion. His arms were above his head, shaking, holding up the tree that was about to fall on her. Part of the tree also rested on his shoulder blades. The armour covering that cracked and creaked under the pressure, ready to break at any second.

With a yell, he extended his arms and threw the tree to the side. The padding of sandals on dirt came up behind him, revealing the mage from before.

"Bow to Hirc- UMPH!" Even though he had discarded his weapons, the adrenaline filling Darius's body pushed him to grab the mage by the face and slam it into the fallen log. The skull made a sickening noise and bounced before coming to rest in a pile of its own blood.

Darius turned to Arwen, panting. He attempted to speak but found he could not part from breathing for that long. They simply stared at each other for a full minute. Arwen still lay on the ground, in awe, while Darius stood with his arms hung forward and his legs shaking slightly. The full amount of awe from what they had witnessed (or performed) slowly settled in.

"Thank you, Darius." Arwen said simply. She looked at him differently than she had before. There was something more intimate in her eyes, not the look of a lover but rather a casual air. When her golden orbs fell on Darius they had nothing new to study or discover about him. "I don't know what to say..."

"Say nothing, but this bloody armour is pushing into my spine." Darius mumbled. Arwen nodded, making her way to him and taking a place behind him. He wet his lips before hitting his knees. "Thanks."

He stayed still as she carefully removed the straps of his armour. When her fingertips brushed his skin, she jumped. He was _boiling_ to the touch. Darius raised an eyebrow and looked at her over his shoulder, but she waved him off. She lifted the chest piece off of him and held it out so both of them could see.

"It was made with the strength of balsa." Arwen scowled. "And I watched your shield do the same! That damn merchant cheated us! I wouldn't pay ten septims for this!"

"Arwen, calm down-"

"I bet that bastard made away with twice as many furs as he should have! And I bet he took my amulet with him!" Arwen continued. She was boiling, with her fists clenched and her eyes flaring.

"Hey!" Darius grabbed her shoulder with a sturdy hand, snapping her out of it. "Don't jump to so many conclusions; we will head back to your camp and sort things out from there, okay?" Arwen closed her eyes and exhaled. A heartbeat later, she nodded. "I'm not taking his side; I'm just making sure you don't jump to any conclusions. If this guy truly cheated us, you can bet we are gonna give him what's coming to him." Darius smirked at her. "Okay?"

Arwen's face brightened in a way that warmed Darius's heart. The soft feeling overflowed and spread to the rest of the body; the sensation was akin to a dog or cat gently nuzzling his skin. "Okay." She smiled, looking up at him.

Together, the two looted the bodies of the cultists and checked their tents for valuables. The men bore little more than bloodied furs and raw meat, but the tents yielded a handful of weak potions. The largest tent sported a chest, but it was locked and neither of them had the capabilities or the energy to open it, so they left it be.


	6. Chapter 6

**As you can probably tell, this chapter features a song from The Lord of the Rings. I altered it slightly to fit the scene better, and totally reversed the meaning of the song.**

At Dead Man's Drink, there were twice as many horses tied there than usual, and a loud, boisterous tune came from the building. Patrons had to duck to dodge flying bottles of mead that shattered against the wall. The cause was ten similarly dressed young men who were singing and dancing along to a tune that they must have invented. The men who weren't doing singing or slapping their thighs, or anything nearby, to the tune proceeded to break the inn in any way possible. Poor Narri ran back and forth, begging for them to stop.

 _Blunt the knives and bend the forks!  
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!_

Dengeir watched in horror as they acted out their song, with two men working on the cutlery and at least three smashing bottles before tossing the corks in the fireplace.

 _Chip the glasses and crack the plates!  
That's what bartenders hate!_

Narri grabbed a man's arm to stop him from throwing a plate against the ground, but he simply spat the last line in her face and threw it anyway.

 _Cut the cloth and trail the fat!  
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!  
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!  
Splash the wine on every door!_

A woman gasped at a man as he drew a dagger and slashed a tapestry hanging on the wall. Narri barely noticed them dropping food and drink all over the place as she ran to the tapestry, as if she could somehow save it.

 _Dump the steaks on the fire's fur;  
Stamp them up till' it's all a blur;_

After the cave bear fur sitting in front of the fire was filled with salmon steaks, two men took it upon themselves to jig all over the matt and push the food into its deepest layers.

 _And when you're done; go find some myrrh...  
_

The tallest of the men walked in after singing his line, holding a small clay pot above his head triumphantly. The crowd paused the song, leaving it to him to end it however he liked. Narri shook her head, begging with her eyes. He ignored her, upturning it and dumping what looked like small orange rocks all over the ground.

"Please, that's very expensive resin! You can't-"

"Shut your trap, whore!" He growled. A flash of metal was all that could be seen when he drew a knife on Narri. He held it under her neck, the tip pointed upwards.

 _Then steal the woman and make her curr._

He abandoned the beat of the song, instead saying the last line barely above a whisper. He moved his hand to grab onto Narri's wrist, but instead found a different hand grabbing his own wrist.

"What do you think you're doing to this kind lady?" Green eyes burned into the leader of the group.

"Darius." Narri breathed a sigh of relief as her eyes fell upon her savior.

"You had better let me go, or else you'll regret it." The man whose wrist he held was a raven-haired Nord with a permanent scowl. "Unless you're blind, you know I'm not alone."

"I know you've got nine men, I can count." Darius smiled at him. "But something you don't know is that I've got a Wood Elf with damn good aim."

Upon the last word, a fork sprouted from the nearest crony's eyeball. Amidst the proceeding confusion and period of surprise, another fork and a knife found their marks in the bodies of more henchmen.

"You won't lay a hand on this town while I'm here!" Darius spat, twisting the man's arm before socking him in the gut. When the man doubled over, Darius kicked him into one of the piles of filth he had made. He soon kissed the ground himself when someone snuck up behind him and struck him with a chair. He moved to kick Darius, but froze when a knife sprouted from the wall behind him two inches below his crotch. He gulped, meeting eyes with an auburn-haired Wood Elf who wielded another knife. She raised an eyebrow, indicating the cutlery that had barely missed his manhood. He acknowledged the warning and lowered his foot carefully. The remaining men shared glances before reaching for their fallen comrades and helping them to their feet, and soon out of the inn.

Narri looked for the inn's well-timed champion, but could not see him. After a quick look under a table, his location was revealed. He was on his knees, carefully cleaning the mess that the men had made.

"Hey Narri." Darius spoke once their eyes met. "Came to pick up my things, still have them handy?"

"Darius you fool." Narri broke into a smile and chuckled. "You give yourself little credit and act like you didn't just save my inn."

"I like the people here, it was no problem." Darius explained simply, shrugging as he rose. He placed a pile of bones on a nearby table before leaning to get more.

"Please, don't bother yourself with cleaning up after those ruffians." Narri touched his arm, calling him back to his feet. "Your belongings are kept safe in your room; I will be right back with it."

When Narri left, Arwen appeared at his side. "Doing more good deeds for your biggest fan?"

"Shush, you couldn't have expected me to stand by." Darius frowned.

"Come now, I'm only teasing. By the way, now I'm _your_ Wood Elf?" Arwen wiggled her eyebrows like a caterpillar crawled.

"Here it is, down to the last button." Narri handed him two saddle bags of belongings. "If you're getting your things, then you must be leaving... Is there anything we can do for you before you leave?"

"Yes, actually." Darius glanced at Arwen before he spoke, but he saw she was already tying the bags onto Dominion outside. "Have you heard of a Breton named Carian? He's a traveling merchant with a covered cart; we spotted him in this area early today."

"Shrewd old man?" Narri asked, to which Darius nodded. "Yes. He came into town before noon. Sold Lod some chests of ore before he set off. Didn't stay very long."

Darius inwardly cheered, what a lucky break. "Do you know which road he left on, or where he was gone to?"

"No..." Narri played with a burgundy strand of hair between her fingertips in thought. "Keeping in mind that he is a merchant, he came on the Markarth road and left on the Helgen road. It makes the most sense for him to follow that path north to Riverwood, and then most likely Whiterun. From there, due to Whiterun's central position, I cannot tell."

"Thank you Narri! That is excellent!" Darius hugged her in joy, making her eyes go wide. The barmaid blushed uncharacteristically as she returned the gesture. Darius recoiled and held her shoulder. "The man cheated me, and I am trying to track him down. Your input makes that a lot easier."

"It was easy, just a bit of local knowledge mixed with some logic." Narri chuckled.

"I must be off, there's no time to waste. I thank you very much for all of your help Narri." Darius bowed to her. "May your brew be pristine and your customers be plentiful."

Narri smiled at the blessing he gave her, and created an original one for him as well with a curtsy. "I pray the winds be at your back, and that your opponents tremble before you."

"He's on his way to Whiterun." Darius reported, closing the door to Dead Man's Drink behind him. "He took the Helgen road, but I should be able to beat him going the other way."

"The long way around?" Arwen frowned. "Why not overtake him?"

"Well I have to bring you back to your camp, don't I?" Darius looked at her strangely.

"Oh, yes..." Arwen muttered. "Apologies, it slipped my mind."

"Before we leave, I would like to do one more thing." Wordlessly, Darius slipped away. A nearby guard acknowledged him as a hero, but he paid little mind to him. He traversed the small city and disappeared between two buildings. When Arwen caught back up to him, she was silent.

Darius knelt before the Hero's Graveyard, his lips fluttering in a silent prayer. The shrine to Arkay in beside him glowed dull red in recognition of the act. She dared not approach or speak, for fear of interrupting his ritual. Darius finally rose and walked to the Arkay shrine. He fished in his pocket before procuring a small garnet, taken from the Hircine cultist camp. He placed it before the shrine before nodding to Arwen, signalling he was ready to go.

* * *

When they returned to Arwen's camp, they were welcomed by a horde of curious Bosmer. They hadn't been seen since they left for their hunt, and they had taken much more time than a hunt usually did. Arwen disappeared upon entering the camp, to Darius' surprise. This left him to fend off the information hungry elves. He quickly explained their adventure in the simplest way possible. Regardless of the level of details included, his audience was in awe. They praised him and Arwen on their accomplishment before most of them left him alone. A single elf was before him, one he recognized as Sildriel. He had a sharp, slanted face and a black wolf's tail.

"Lad, will you be on your way soon?" He said through pursed lips.

"Yes, I plan to leave as soon as possible." Darius agreed.

"If you don't mind me asking, I'd like to know your purpose in Skyrim. You mentioned earlier that your destination was to the north." Sildriel stood as tall as he could. "I believe I have a right to know, now that you've befriended someone who is very dear to me."

Darius' eyes darted back and forth, but found the area around them mostly empty. "My reasons for my actions are my own, and I ask that you not judge me for what they appear to be on the surface." Darius muttered. Sildriel nodded, and Darius leaned in to his ear. He cupped his mouth with a hand and whispered into Sildriel's pointed ear. His eyes shot up almost immediately. Once Darius was done, he furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the Imperial strangely.

"That is my mission in Skyrim." Darius gulped, unsure of what the Bosmer would think.

"That is... well, unusual for one such as yourself." Sildriel stumbled to find the right words."

"I know, but it's necessary. I'm eager to get it over with." Darius replied.

"Well I wish you the best... I guess." Sildriel shook his hand. Darius returned it and turned around, almost running into Arwen.

"Are you leaving?" She looked up at him. Darius shuffled, unsure how he would say goodbye to his new friend. All he could manage was a stiff nod. Arwen turned her head and stuck her fingers in her mouth, letting out a long, piercing whistle. From the woods came a butterscotch mare with all of the proper tack. The horse came to her side, where she ran her hands along its cheek gently. "Well then, we should get going."

"But you can't-!" His response was silenced by a finger pushing into his lips.

"No buts, Darius." She stated firmly. "My time with this camp has been some of the best times of my life, and I am very grateful for everything they have done for me. They've taught me who I am and where I've come from, and helped me establish an identity for myself. Yet... the winds calls me. I cannot stay here, I must see the world. I've decided the first leg of my journey will be with you, getting our revenge on the cheating Carian."

"The amulet!" Darius remembered, whirling on Sildriel. "I forgot to ask, did a Breton come here?"

"Yes, on a carriage." Sildriel answered. "Said you had bought a load of precious stones from him and he was here to receive payment. He had your necklace, so we knew he was speaking on your behalf. Took his load in furs and left." Sildriel eyed Arwen, wondering why she had given such a hefty bill to the camp instead of paying it herself.

"Why that lying, scheming..." Arwen clenched her teeth, stopping herself form saying any more. "We bought iron armour for Darius before we took on the cult, basic equipment. Not worth half of what he took! Did he return my necklace?"

"No, was he supposed to?" Sildriel raised an eyebrow, still confused at the situation. "He said it was part of the deal."

"Well that settles it." Darius turned to Arwen with a sly smile. "You did make a promise, didn't you?"

"Although I _really_ wish it wasn't that bastard that was bringing us together, you're right." Arwen huffed out her anger, managing a smile. "I'll follow you to Whiterun, and together we will give this man what is coming."

She turned to Sildriel, her gold eyes rapidly dampening. Darius did not want to intrude upon the intimate moment and gave a hurried goodbye to the camp, turning to his horse and preparing it. He did his best to block out the words, for they were not meant for his ears. Although it wasn't his business, his curiosity forced him to sneak a quick peek over his shoulder. He saw Arwen and Sildriel pressing their foreheads together, each with a hand behind the other's head. He quickly looked back to his horse and shuffled through his bag idly. When he moved a small pot, he saw a fist-sized leather bag that glowed out the top. He opened up the top to see a white, spherical crystal.

" _A mortal hand touches the beacon_." An otherworldly voice boomed within his head.

"Shush! Not now!" He whispered into the bag, pulling on the string and shutting it. "And you don't need to keep saying that every time I hold it..."

"I'm ready." Arwen said simply from behind him. Darius whirled, surprised, and hoped she didn't hear anything. He also didn't question the lack of her usual talkativeness, knowing this must be a hard time for her.

"Alright, we should get going. If we miss Carian at Whiterun there might not be any way to track him." Darius nodded. Together, they mounted their horses. Before Darius could order Dominion to move, a green hand held the reins.

"I told you that you couldn't shake her." Sildriel smiled sadly.

"Thank you for trusting me, I know she is very important to you." Darius opened his heart to the man, knowing how hard it must be for a friend to be leaving so suddenly. "I cannot speak for Arwen, but I doubt that this is the last time either of us will see you. You've been good to me, and I will always see you as a friend."

"Take good care of our little Farstride, Imperial." Sildriel looked at the ground, wiping his eyes quickly. "Good luck with your task, and your parents."

"And good hunting to you." Darius and Sildriel grasped the other's hands for a moment before the Bosmer backed away. Darius dug his heels into Dominion lightly and the horse immediately set off down the path. It started off at a fast pace, eager to catch up to Arwen's mare.


	7. Chapter 7

"Stop scratching it!" Arwen scolded less like a mother and more like a sibling.

"I can't!" Darius growled, running his nails within his new arm sling carefully. He was sure to only agitate the skin around the cut and not at the actually cut. "It's itchy as Oblivion..."

"You'll only end up making it worse." Arwen huffed. "Don't come crying to me when it opens up, you're lucky I made that sling for you."

"Are you forgetting that I was injured protecting you?"

"Hardly! I could have taken the highwaymen myself!" Arwen scoffed, referring to the pair of Nords that had tried to shake them down at a homemade roadblock a few leagues south of Whiterun.

"Alright..." Darius muttered, not wishing to extend the argument much longer. He'd rather take the blame then have a wedge between them. "I guess if there's anyone to blame it's that damn Breton for leading us out here."

Arwen rode Dominion at Darius' request. When he offered out of courtesy she refused, but after he admitting the jostling made his wound hurt then she finally agreed. They were nearly at Whiterun, just a few minutes out. They could easily see the city, and especially Dragonsreach as it towered over the other buildings.

"Dragonsreach, they say that a great Nord hero once captured a dragon in that palace." Arwen commented.

"What? Impossible! A dragon couldn't possibly be bested by such basic technology." Darius scoffed. He had never actually seen a dragon, nor had anyone for thousands of years mind you, but he quickly marked the tale as Nordic legend.

"Be careful of what you say, Nords are very traditional and do not take kindly to foreigners claiming their ancient tales are fake." Arwen smiled smugly. Darius noted the advice as they approached the entrance to the city.

"Halt, stranger!" A guard called through his metal helmet. Darius held Dominion's reins and held the horse far enough back that the guard wouldn't have a chance of grabbing it. Two of them stood on either side of a gate while several manned the top of the wall nearby. "What business do you have in Whiterun?"

"Just travelers passing through. We've come to explore, hunt and fish in the famed Whiterun hold." Darius nodded, he had practiced his story so much on his way to Falkreath that it came naturally. "My sister and I have been to High Rock and Northern Hammerfell before deciding to come East to Skyrim."

"Sister? Lad, that's an elf." The other guard seemed to frown through his helmet.

Darius gulped.

"Adopted sister, mind you." Arwen smiled brightly at the guard, the tips of her ears sparkling with pink blush. "My parents were killed while on a merchant trip to Cyrodil, and his family took me in. We've been close ever since."

Darius felt like groaning out of relief. Arwen had smoothly covered up a terrible blunder on his part.

"You've trained this elf since she was young, yeah?" The close guard stuck a finger out at Arwen, who recoiled from being referred to in such a way.

"What are you implying?" Darius' teeth flattened against each other and his jaw muscles bulged.

"Are you dense, Imperial?" The other guard chipped in. "If an elf isn't properly trained from a young age, it'll surely become nothing less than a liar, a scoundrel and a spy for the Dominion! It's in their blood!"

At that, a warm presence lightly pressed his neck. He turned his head slightly to see Arwen's finger against his skin, although her eyes didn't meet him. Her golden orbs were straight forward and clearly as strained as he was, given off further by the sweat on her brow. She sent a silent message of, somehow knowing he would outburst.

"Yeah..." Darius gulped. "She was raised in the Empire, she's good in all but blood."

"Alright, but we'll be keeping an eye on her." The far guard grabbed the large handle for the gate and twisted it. After a generous pull, the gate door crept outwards. "Wouldn't want her instincts to take over in town, now would we?"

"Yes sir." Darius' fingers dug into the leather reigns of Dominion and he moved to pull the horse inside.

"Not so fast, the horse stays with the stable master. You can pick him up again when you leave the city."

Darius was reluctant at first, but after a moment of thinking the guard's order had some logic behind it. He waited for Arwen to get off and then looted any important belongings before handing over the horse to the guard.

When the gate shut behind him, it felt as though he was breathing cleaner air.

Thank the Nine; there was an Imperial to greet him inside the city. She was a black-haired smith working the whetstone under the roof of a stone house. She looked up and smiled at him.

"Hello friend. Name's Adrianne. Need a strong blade or armour?" She stopped pedaling to point her half-sharpened sword at the shop. "The place is called Warbear's, and we are the local blacksmith. Everyone in town relies on our steel, and we don't disappoint."

"I wish I was in need of your services, but I have no business for you at this time." Darius waved politely. It was nice to see a friendly face after the racist idiots at the gate. He hadn't looked at Arwen since then, so he flicked his eyes to her quickly. She was a blank slate of emotion, slumped stance with a neutral face. It could have been the guards, or Sildriel could be right and she was shy around new people. One minor thing Darius noted about her was that she pulled her hair in front of her ears, completely covering the tips. Either way, Darius doubted that it mattered and further doubted he was gonna get any words out of her by the look on her face.

"Where do you think we should start?" Darius whispered. Arwen shrugged in response, it looked like he was taking the lead on this mission. The two walked through the Plains District together. The path sloped upwards slightly before opening into a clearing surrounded by a circle of market stalls. Behind them, shops and houses stood proudly. Shopkeepers loudly advertised their wares, ranging from vegetables to jewelry and fresh meat.

"You are injured."A light voice whispered. Darius jumped at the sight of a short girl beside him. She had thick blonde curls which, unlike Arwen's, had ears pointing slightly through. Although he couldn't see them in all their glory, he could tell they weren't as prominent as Arwen's. From her features, which all seemed dulled elven, Darius deduced she was a Breton. She wore simple orange priestess robes, with a yellow hood upon her shoulders. When they met eyes, she seemed shocked in return. "I apologize; I am getting away from myself. I didn't mean to intrude; it's just that your arm seems to be injured. I work at the Temple of Kynareth, we could gladly heal you free of charge."

"Thank you ma'am, that is very kind." Darius bowed respectfully to the priestess. "It would be a great help if you could heal me."

"My name is Lyssa." Darius immediately replied by introducing him and Arwen. The blonde dipped her head towards him before turning and leading them deeper into the city. "Please, follow me." Darius monitored Arwen's face when Lyssa had her back turned. She eyed the Breton with distrust.

They walked up a flight of stone stairs and were greeted by a large pavilion centered on a tree. Buildings huddled around the circle, and Darius immediately recognized Jorrvaskr. The people seemed to automatically part when Lyssa neared them. Most of them regarded her with a tipped head, even the Nords. It was clear that they held great respect for those who spoke the words of their gods. He was led into one of the buildings he could not recognize. It was rather large, and seemed to be double storied. When Darius entered, he was surprised to find it completely open. There seemed to be more windows than shown on the outside and great beams of sunlight flooded in. The temple was very quiet and peaceful. Beds lay in a large ring encompassing the whole building, most filled with the injured or sick. Darius counted four priests and priestesses, not including Lyssa.

"This is Priestess Danica, she runs the temple." Lyssa lead Darius to a hooded, though kind looking woman. "She is of the greatest skill you will find in this city. She can heal you of your wounds."

"Thank you for bringing him Lyssa, but his injury is minor." Danica smiled warmly. "You have more to learn from this than I do."

"Oh!" Lyssa's eyes went wide and she blushed instantly. "Why, thank you Priestess..." With a gulp, she led Darius to a nearby bed and instructed him to sit on the bed and remove his armour. She stumbled on her words and couldn't meet her eyes, like a schoolgirl. Darius found it quite cute, but he could almost _feel_ Arwen rolling her eyes beside him.

Lyssa carefully rolled up the sleeve of his undershirt to reveal the wound in full. She narrated her actions before she performed them, making sure Darius was fully aware and comfortable with what she was doing next. Once his sling was off, she protruded a small glass vial.

"This is a mild salve that should assist in Restoration magic." She explained moments before the cool paste touched Darius' skin. She spread it with two fingers and a gentle touch. She muttered a few words, and as she spread the salve her hand began to glow. An uneasy feeling spread through Darius, somewhere between a muscle falling asleep and cramping. After only a few moments of this, the light dimmed. Lyssa cleaned off the paste with a damp cloth wordlessly.

"That's it?" Darius said, bewildered.

"Of course." Lyssa nodded. As she spoke, she retrieved a mirror from a small side table and held it up for Darius to see the wound. "It was properly dressed soon after the injury, and the wound itself was rather small. It was only a matter of closing the flesh."

"Incredible..." Darius muttered. The skin was only slightly discolored where the knife had found his bicep.

"Thank you." Lyssa placed her hands on her lap and bowed. "I came to the temple to practice more Restoration magic, and I see my skill increase every day."

"We'd love to stay longer, but we have business here." Arwen called out. It silenced the other two immediately. They all rose and made their way to the door, but not before Darius stopped for a moment at the shrine. He placed a finger on the Kynareth Shrine to find it warm to the touch. His entire body soon accepted the feeling into it. He left the temple feeling like he had taken a good nap on a sunny day.

"Die, mongrel!"

A stranger darted towards them while they were still in the temple's doorway. Darius snatched the stranger's wrist and held it in place. Both shook as they fought to either move or restrain. Within the stranger's hand was a thin steel dagger inches from Lyssa's breast. The intended target of the knife stood frozen, with saucer eyes born from shock and hands gripping the doorway of the temple. Darius and the man met eyes. His were black and beady, face hidden behind a red mask and black hood.

In a flash he kneed Darius in the chest and shoved his elbow into Arwen's chin. When they were stunned he took off into Whiterun.

"Arwen, get her to safety!" Darius bellowed, dropping all of his belongings except for his mace. He charged after the man in pursuit. The target slipped and slid between citizens expertly and without slowing, while Darius had to push past most of them. The assassin left sight suddenly, only to reappear in the form of a foot tripping Darius. When Darius hit the stone, the jarring pain reminded him he wore no armour.

The imperial swung his leg in hopes of tripping the attacker, but he leapt over the foot nimbly. When he landed he was already running. By the time Darius got back up he had another head start. Darius followed him between two buildings, but lost him when he turned a corner. He looked in every direction, but couldn't pinpoint him.

The _twang_ of an unseen bowstring made Darius' heart sink, but he was pleasantly surprised when he heard the arrow _thud_ into wood. He turned to see Arwen standing behind him with his shield on her arm, now bearing an arrow. In the same instant she threw a knife towards the rooftop. Darius heard it clang against the shingles as the assassin fled over the roof.

"He's on the roof!" Darius called out.

"You two! Stay where you are!" A guard approached on the path between the houses, war hammer in hand.

"We can't, that assassin is getting away!" Darius growled.

"Assassin? All I saw was three people fighting in the streets, three people which now need to be isolated and calmed down."

Darius ground his teeth and Arwen pursed her lips, but did not rebel for fear of arrest. They assumed that while they were lead to the garrison, the attacker was making his getaway.

They were asked a small amount of questions about what they were doing in Whiterun, and this time Darius didn't slip up. They didn't stay long after another guard entered with Lyssa. She spoke on their behalf and the guards almost immediately let them free.

"I cannot thank you enough, you saved my life." Lyssa gulped, clearly still frightened. "I don't know what happened back there, who would send an assassin after me?"

"That was Dark Brotherhood apparel." Arwen spoke darkly. "These aren't petty thieves we are dealing with; a trained killer wants you dead." Lyssa made a noise like a muffled shriek. "You aren't safe here, Breton. You're coming with us."

"She is?" Darius asked, not because he wished against it but because Arwen was acting with surprising amounts of trust.

"Yes, and that means our camp is short a bedroll." Arwen turned bright when she faced Darius, winking at him. He couldn't help but smile.


	8. Chapter 8

Lyssa had her own horse, so the ladies rode while Darius walked. His excuse to stay down this time, since his arm was healed, was that he needed to work on marching in armour. If he wanted to be a soldier one day he would need to walk hours in full plate mail.

They left Whiterun going east, only to loop back south one they were a ways out. The south was also the nearest location with trees, which would aid in hiding their camp. Lyssa spoke little, and barely lifted her eyes from staring at her horse's mane. Arwen suspected she felt guilty, but Darius thought it was out of embarrassment that strangers had saved her and were now going out of their way to help her. In truth, it was a bit of both.

"How about here?" Darius paused at a clearing that was about two hundred meters from the road.

"It looks good to me. It's on a slight slope so if it rains water will run away from us, plus there is a patch of moss that'll be great for sleep rolls." Arwen added her woodsman opinion.

They went about unpacking their things and setting up camp. Since Lyssa didn't have time to get her belongings from the temple, she thought that she would help out. She grabbed a sack from Dominion and brought it to the tent Darius was setting up. A root that bulged from the ground made the perfect protrusion to Lyssa to stumble on. As she shuffled and waved her arms for balance, a white sphere flew out of the sack and landed beside Darius' feet.

"Darius, what is that?" Arwen frowned, pausing her fire making.

Darius bit his lip, considering his options. He could lie, but that probably wouldn't turn out well. He could tell the truth, but Lyssa was here and having a stranger know that kind of information was dangerous.

"Finish the fire before it gets dark. Lyssa and I will set up camp. When it's all ready, I'll begin." Strangely, Darius did not pick up the gem. Instead he lightly kicked it into one of the logs set around the fire.

Arwen had a flame roaring in no time. Lyssa raised her tent on the first try. Curiosity and excitement had them working double time. In less than ten minutes, night had only begun to take over the sky and they were sitting around the fire expectantly. Three logs each housed a person at equal distances away from each other, so Darius could see the fire and his two companions at once.

"Where to begin..." Darius rolled around the white gem with the tip of his boot. "I guess it begins with the sack of the Imperial City by the Dominion. Although I'm sure you know most of what happened, in 4E 174 the High Elves, led by the Thalmor, looted the White-Gold Tower, burned the Imperial Palace, and committed terrible atrocities to the innocent populace." Darius swallowed and took a few deep breaths before continuing. "I lived in the in the Imperial City until I was five. A year earlier, when the Dominion attacked, by Dad was in the process of barring our house's door shut when it was burnt to a crisp with magic. A lightning spell took both of my parents through the open doorway. Two Altmer burst into the house and finished them with glass spears before continuing on, as if they were worth no more than a few seconds of their time. I was inside a flour sack at my mom's request, and saw the whole thing."

"I had no idea..." Arwen looked up at him with sympathetic eyes. "That must have been terrible to watch-"

"I was four." Darius cut in firmly, making Arwen recoil. "I barely remember what they were like. It isn't a pity story. Everyone has gone through hardships in their past, each thinking that their own must be greater than everyone else's. I'm not telling you this because it's a sad story, I'm telling you this to explain my reasons behind the most terrible mistake I have ever made."

The girls frowned at him and looked at him strangely, but let him continue. There was clearly much more to the story.

"I began to cry. Seeing there was a moving sack of flour, one of the Altmer must have figured that it was a hidden pet or child. She sent her spear through the bag, not even checking what it was. The bag fell over and I spilled out, laying beside my parents. My wound wasn't as serious as theirs, so I got to writhe in pain as they both slowly died. I was in a pool of blood, near my death bed, my parents dead and my city burning around me. In my desperation, I called out to the gods. I specifically remember asking any god that would listen to help me, which was probably my downfall in the end. The Aedra paid no heed to me, but someone did. A Daedra who introduced herself as Meridia." Darius managed to laugh. "I'm just glad that she got to me before Clavicus Vile did, eh? Anyway, she appeared to me as a hovering light. She said that she could heal me and grant me safety, and even capabilities to survive beyond the next few months. Until then I hadn't even considered what I would do the next few days, let alone months. Regardless, she would grant all of that to me if I went north to Skyrim and cleansed her temple of the undead. I would become her champion, and carry out her will on Nirn. I swore an oath on my blood, and it was so. This gem is called the Beacon of Meridia. It's appeared beside me since that day. I could throw it off a bridge and it would reappear back in my saddlebag or in my backpack. I can't get rid of it; Akatosh knows I've tried..."

"You're a fool, the Daedric princes are not forces to be trifled with!" Arwen yelled suddenly. "Do you understand that you've sold your life away!? When you die you cannot go to any Afterlife, your soul will be hers to toy with! Does your humanity mean that little to you?"

"Actually, my humanity was the source of my choice. Without Meridia I doubt I would have lived the month. I would have never been guided to a runaway Blade and trained in the ways of a knight. I would have never have discovered my hidden skill while fighting Justicars day after day. I would have never come to Falkreath and met you, Arwen. On top of that, if we would have never met we wouldn't have come to Whiterun and met Lyssa. I sold my soul in exchange for my life, and I plan on making every second worth."

Arwen was silent after that. They both looked to Lyssa, who had barely said anything throughout the story. She stared at the dirt, which she had been tracing circles into.

"Darius, nobody can know about this. You may have a mind and body, but your soul now belongs to someone else. Most will reject you, save the Dunmer." Lyssa advised quietly. Darius nodded in response. "I assume the purpose of the gem is for communication?"

"It only goes one way; she hadn't spoken in years before she tried contacting me at Arwen's camp." Arwen raised her eyebrows slightly at this, but didn't interrupt Lyssa's question period.

"And now you must clear out an undead infestation? Do you know where her temple is?"

"Yes, it's west of Solitude and north of the Reach."

"It would be a shame to sell your afterlife away, only for your life on Nirn to end at the blade of a Draugr." Lyssa stood up and dusted off her robes. "Darius Cyprian, you saved my life today. I promise I will stand by your whenever I can to ensure your mortal body survives for as long as possible. I would be dead if it weren't for you. The least I could do is help you keep your life, especially with your situation."

"You won't be necessary Lyssa." A small smile appeared on Arwen's lips. "Because the masses of undead won't even make it to us before I fill them full of more arrows than a training dummy. You freed me at the hands of slavers, a position I was only in due to over-confidence on my part. You freed me from a life of misery."

"So it is settled then, you aren't alone in your fight anymore."

Darius sat with his hands folded over his nose, his body shaking slightly. He shifted his hands slightly in an attempt to wipe tears before they were visible, but he failed.

"Thank you..." He muttered into his hands. "I have very few words to describe my gratitude towards you two. Selling your soul makes you feel kind of separated from the world, like it would be impossible for anyone to really understand what you're going through. I promise you will not be disappointed, I will stand by you should it be the full forces of man and mer bearing down upon us."

"You'll always have my bow." Arwen slung it off of her shoulder and into her hand.

"And my magic, Restoration and Alteration." Lyssa's hands glowed to life with the beginnings of a spell.

("And mah axe!")

"And my mace seals the deal." Darius stuck the pointed tip in the ground so it would stay in place. "The Temple of Meridia may be our final goal, but for now we have business in Whiterun."

"I was going to ask, what exactly is your business in Whiterun?" Lyssa asked without restraint after their new alliance.

"We were cheated by a Breton named Carian; he sold us fake armour that almost killed Darius. He also stole from my camp."

"I have never heard of that name, but tomorrow I would recommend going to Dragonsreach. The Jarl is very in touch with his people, nobody gets through the gates of Whiterun without Balgruuf the Greater knowing about it. On my very first night in town he bought me a meal at the Bannered Mare. He is a good man who will definitely help us."

"Dragonsreach it is then. From there, we confront Carian and give him what's coming." Darius smiled.

"If that is to happen, we had better get some rest." Arwen suggested. Darius immediately offered to take first watch before an argument could be made. He worked on climbing a tree a short ways to find a thick branch he could lay on. He had only light cover with some leaves, but in the dark he was sure that he wouldn't be seen. He saw the girls preparing to change, so he turned onto his back and studied the canopy. It wasn't long before the rustling from his camp ended and he was left with only the mild noises from the woods.

"Slavers, cults, cheating Bretons, and now the Dark Brotherhood."Darius snorted in amusement. "We've only been a group for a few minutes but we've already got a fair share of enemies."

Darius turned his body so he sat on the branch with his legs dangling over. He could see inside Lyssa's tent, where she shuffled uncomfortably in her bed with a frown on her face. Darius cleared his throat and looked to the sky and began to sing, but not before checking one last time that they were both sleeping.

 _Nightmares come when shadows grow...  
Eyes closed and heartbeats slow.  
Awaken from a quiet sleep, hear the whispering of the wind.  
Awaken as the silence grows in the solitude of the night.  
Darkness spreads through all the land and your weary eyes open silently._

 _Distant sounds of melodies calling through the night to your heart.  
Auroras, mists and echoes dance in the solitude of our life.  
Pleading silent arias gently grieving in captive misery.  
Darkness sings a forlorn song and yet our hope can still rise up.  
Nightmares come when shadows grow.  
Lift your voice, lift your heart._

 _Fear not this night, you will not go astray.  
Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way.  
And you can always be strong.  
Lift your voice, with the first light of dawn.  
Dawn is just a heartbeat away  
Hope's just a sunrise away._

"Don't fear as you sleep, I will be protecting you." Darius promised. He hummed and sang softly to pass the time and keep from falling asleep. When the moons were about a third of the way through the sky, Darius leapt down and awakened Lyssa. He felt guilty waking her instead of Arwen, but they each had to wake up at some time. He was just very excited to crawl into a bedroll beside her, especially tonight. Darius took off his armour until he was clad only in his underclothes and crept into Arwen's tent. He lifted her bedroll and tried to slide in without waking her, but she stirred from her sleep. Her eyelids opened lazily, revealing only a sliver of her golden orbs. She smiled almost immediately and pulled Darius in close, After standing out in the night for hours, Arwen's warmth was a godsend.


	9. Chapter 9

**Champion of Meridia takes place several years before the events of Skyrim, and also alters the canon set by the game.**

"Keep a sharp eye out for the shadows." Arwen advised through a slim gap in her lips. Lyssa dipped her head towards Arwen as a sign of acknowledgement. The three of them scanned the Plains District carefully for any suspicious activity.

The trio walked through the town at the fastest pace they could while remaining inconspicuous. They ignored all words directed towards them, brushed off merchant's advertisements and did not meet the eyes of any guards.

"The town is on high alert now; the Dark Brotherhood wouldn't attack again." Darius frowned. "Two attacks in two days, it's to be expected. Illogical."

"And if you're wrong?" Arwen chimed. The war cry of the assassin yesterday echoed in his ears. Darius said nothing more. As they walked, a man walked straight at them. He only moved when he spotted Lyssa's robes.

"Why do the townspeople respect you so?" Darius asked Lyssa. "They are Nords after all, they aren't exactly known for being accepting of other races."

"The only reason they don't treat me as they do Arwen is because of my occupation..." Lyssa sighed in disappointment. Due to her disappointment at her words, one could guess she wanted to be accepted not because she was a priestess, but rather to be judged on her character. "The Nords hold very high respect to their gods and those who tend to their temples."

A sound that could be described as nothing other than a commotion streaked through the city. It felt very alien in a usually quiet and simple place, so much so that everyone, even the playing children, looked to its source. Dragonsreach.

"Let's go!" Darius ordered, but the group was already in a full sprint. They sprinted up stone stairs that turned several times at dangerous angles; the risk of falling was amplified by the lack of railings. After one last corner they reached a wooden bridge that crossed the chasm found between the stony hill that the stairs were cut into and the Jarl's palace. A blue-robed man yelled at two city guards from the ground.

"Preposterous!" When he rose to his feet his hood fell, revealing a large blonde goatee as well as his race, Nordic. "I only wish to observe and study the trap, not set it off! This request is no great favour!"

"Quit your blabbering, mage!" A guard spat. "Get out of here. If I catch you coming around here again you'll be spending the night in the Dragonsreach Dungeon!"

"Please, we have no place in this argument." Darius stepped around the mage and towards the gate. "We only wish to enter Dragonsreach and ask the Jarl a few questions."

"Armed strangers wishing to see the Jarl?" The same guard laughed. "You aren't getting anywhere near him."

Lyssa stepped in front of Darius, taking control of the situation. She bowed in her priestess robes, hoping they would gain her credibility. "Please, we only wish to ask him a few questions. We will be on our way out very soon."

"No can do, priestess. Court Wizard's orders." The guard answered without hostility, but did nothing to bend the situation in their favour.

"So much for speaking to the Jarl..." Arwen spoke as they slowly descended the stone stairs.

"We can't force our way in, can we sneak in? Or wait until the Jarl leaves Dragonsreach?' Darius suggested.

"Unlikely." Lyssa answered. "We aren't supposed to be there for an unknown reason, and I assume that whatever is keeping us out of the palace will also keep the Jarl in. There is a good chance he is being cautious after the Dark Brotherhood sighting in the city."

"To that I speak your words, unlikely." A voice spoke behind them. They turned to see the mage who the guards had also denied entry to. "I requested to see Dragonsreach, the legendary dragon trap of which Whiterun was built around. It sits in a completely different section of the palace that the Jarl would be found in." He corrected them with a smile that sparked with conceit. "Forgive me, where are my manners? My name is Farengar. Why were you three trying to enter the palace?"

"We are looking for a man, a merchant." Arwen answered carefully. "He may have passed through town recently."

"I have been in Whiterun for four days, what was this merchant's name?"

"His name was Carian, he was an older Breton and he drove a carriage."

"No merchant of that sort has come to the city while I have been here." Farengar reported. "But the description matches the owner of the General Goods store. If it wasn't him, perhaps he knows this merchant of yours through his business."

"Thank you, honoured mage." Arwen placed her palms together and bowed gently, an action he copied.

"Regardless of what you find there, remain on high alert." Farengar's eyes flicked around to look for nearby guards. "Something is amiss. The townsfolk say that the staff of Dragonsreach has never acted in such a way. We seem to be four minds of the same kind on this subject. In fact..." Farengar scratched his goatee as a smile fell on his lips. "If you could find a way for me to enter Dragonsreach, or provide any information on the state of things, I would be willing to reward you."

"It is a deal." Darius and their new ally gripped arms. "Thank you for your kindness, Farengar."

Once they knew that the Jarl's palace wasn't worried about a Dark Brotherhood attack, they themselves became more at ease. They lowered their hoods and walked with a more casual pace.

"You know what's wrong with Skyrim nowadays?" They heard a sigh. Darius and Arwen continued into the shop, but Lyssa stopped in front of the speaker. He was a pony-tailed Nord leaning on a post, looking at the clouds.

"Are you referring to the schism between the holds?" Lyssa asked. Her head titled slightly, shifting her blonde locks.

"Kind of. Everyone is so obsessed with war. Seems like the only things anyone think about is killing. Where is the romance? Poetry? Humor?" he chuckled to himself. "Some Battle-Born I am..."

"An excellent observation." Lyssa complimented. "If you seek the arts, why not move to Solitude? Whiterun is a center of trading and farming, but not the arts."

"Some things are worth staying for, ma'am." He sighed, looking down. He said no more, and Lyssa entered the shop after her comrades.

Lyssa raised an eyebrow at the man behind the counter. He was a Breton. She had never met this Carian man that Arwen and Darius spoke of, could this be him?

"I'm telling you, you two are mistaken!" The Breton explained. "Carian isn't a merchant! He's the Thane of Whiterun! He just came back from delivering a message to the Jarl of Falkreath."

"There is no mistake." Arwen assured. "If only we could speak to him... Belethor, have you entered the castle lately?"

"Lass, you don't need to hide the subject from me..." With a smile, the Breton placed his hairy arms on the table. "You guys want a ticket inside the palace. I think we could help each other out. I have a personal delivery for the Jarl. I was going to take it up there myself, but if you three save me the trip I would give you the opportunity to go inside."

"What is the delivery?" Arwen accused with squinted eyes, as distrusting as usual.

"Just a sword." Belethor laughed. "Don't get so defensive! We're helping each other out here, aren't we?"

"We will take the offer," Darius put his arm in front of Arwen, who had begun inching towards Belethor, and pushed her back. "With gratitude." He added with a glance her way.

After a quick trip to the back of the shop, the group returned with a sword wrapped in a cloth roll. They carried it carefully back up to Dragonsreach. When the guards let them pass this time around, Arwen couldn't hold back a sly smile.

The Jarl's palace was beautiful. The roof was impossibly tall for a structure made of wooden logs. It was so high Darius figured he could barely hit it with a thrown stone. Large fires burned in both brazier and fireplace. There was even a large rectangle cut into the ground where stacked coals lit up two tables facing one another. Residents filled them, but not fully. All eyes were upon the trio as they entered Dragonsreach proper.

The Jarl was easy to spot; he wore a silver circlet and sat upon a throne at the far wall of the room. He eyed them curiously, but did not seem worried about his own safety. Before the group could make it to him, a Dunmer stood up and blocked their path.

"Halt!" She drew her sword and held it out to obstruct them. "What business do you have with the Jarl?"

"We simply wish to deliver this shipment to the Jarl." Darius drew the sword and held it out to the Jarl in the traditional sense, with the handle away from him and the tip pointing to his heart. He looked at the Dunmer expectantly, wondering when she would allow him to walk the rest of the way to the Jarl. She instead grabbed the sword from him with a snarl and carried it to the Jarl.

While Darius was handling the formalities, Arwen had spotted Carian. He sat at the end of the table, closest to the Jarl, and greeted her with a purposefully oblivious smile. Beside him sat a robed man whose hood covered his face. He was the Court Wizard, she bet, the one who Farengar was suspicious of.

Carian was standing before her. The man who almost killed Darius, who cheated them for his own personal profit, was defenceless before her. If she was quick she could put an arrow between his eyes before he could react, but that would surely land her in the Dragonsreach dungeon.

"Notice Darius does not wear the armour you sold him, Carian?" Though the words were conversational, she spoke them loud enough for all to hear.

"Excuse me?" Carian laughed at her audacity. "Ma'am, you must be mistaken."

"I've made no mistake you cheat." She spat. "You almost killed him, did you know that?"

"Please calm yourself, I've done no such thing-"

"Liar! Thief! Villian!" Arwen accused sharply. She burst forward in a fit of anger. Darius reached out to stop her, but was too slow. She had Carian lifted by his shirt by the time the guards got to her.

"You're gonna pay for that!" They promised, grabbing her by her wrists. They moved on Darius and Lyssa, but both of them raised their hands and showed no protest. The guards held onto each of Darius' arms, but did not restrain him as they did his comrade.

"He's not who you think he is!" Arwen swore, struggling against the guards. She shook and jumped, but to no avail. For her efforts, a guard connected a gauntlet to her prominent cheekbones.

"Hey!" Darius yelled out in warning. It didn't stop a different guard from giving her the same treatment. Darius let out a low bellow, starting deep in his chest and reverberating, growing in strength. His arms flexed and shook slowly, pulling against the guards grip. A shout finally escaped his lips, announcing his resistance. Each of his arms tossed forward a city guard into the dinner tables. Darius slammed his own gauntlet into the first guard who had hit Arwen, denting his helmet. He gave the other guard the same treatment he had to Arwen. He reached back again, but was tackled from behind. Two more guards leapt on top of him, holding him down with their weight. Darius barely struggled; he knew when he was beaten.

"It's off to the Dragonsreach dungeon with you!" A guard growled.

"Wait!" All eyes were on the Jarl, who had spoken. "Throw them outside. Do not let them return."

"But my lord-"

"Do it!" He ordered firmly. "They brought me my sword. And clearly do not know the etiquette of the court. This is their last warning."

The guards grumbled and were clearly not happy about the turn of events, but followed his orders. They dragged them to the door before throwing them in a pile, one on top of the other. Lyssa landed on top and was eager to help the others up.

Darius looked at Arwen sideways, though she did not meet his eyes. Hers was cast downwards, knowing full well of her mistake.

"There goes our chance." Arwen gulped, her eyes unmoving.

"Well, not all hope is lost." Lyssa piped in. "The Jarl seemed like a nice man, I'm sure in a different situation we could talk."

"Either way, we can't do anything today." Darius walked past them. "We have to get the horses."

The walk through town was silent, the weight of their defeat heavy on their shoulders. They had a single, lucky opportunity and wasted it. Darius called for Dominion at the stables. The horse came trotting out in no time.

"Darius, I've always been curious." Lyssa spoke up, likely trying to break the silence. "Why is your horse called Dominion?"

"Aside from me, he is the only living thing from my house that survived the attack from the Aldmeri Dominion." Darius explained calmly. "So it's kind of a defiance thing, I guess."

"Ah." Lyssa smiled, nodding politely. The dominance of silence soon returned. Though no words were said, the air was abuzz with thoughts and messages.

Darius glanced at Arwen quickly, long enough to get a good look but not long enough to risk her catching him. He searched for hints in her expression. Her gold eyes showed no emotion His stomach tingled to accompany the thoughts running through his head.

 _Why did she act that way to Carian?_ Darius knew that was simply how Arwen lived, but not to that extreme. She blew their entire plan for reasons beyond wearing her emotions on her sleeve. _The entire time she spoke of me, is her allegiance already that strong? Was she simply using it as an argument?_

 _A fool. A bloody fool._ Arwen huffed. _He couldn't win, he fought simply out of principle._

"Is everything alright?" Lyssa looked worriedly between the two. "Unspoken words seem to be pushing both of you apart."

Arwen needed no formal invitation. "What were you thinking! You had no chance fighting like you did! Were you content with facing the entire Whiterun guard force?"

"Arwen…" Was all Darius could muster, alongside a furrow of the brow. Her reaction was most definitely not expected.

"You could have been hurt, or worse killed. This is the only life you've got and you're keen to try to lose it already?"

"I was trying to protect you! The guards were going too far!" said Darius.

"I don't need protecting!"

"Please, everyone stop!" Lyssa appeared between them. "Please stop fighting!" The two listened to her words and stopped yelling. The Breton took a few moments to let both of them calm down. "We are all teammates, we mustn't let a schism form between us. Darius, Arwen is only worrying about you. She doesn't want you to do something foolhardy and regret it. And Arwen, Darius cares about you in the same way. You were _being_ hurt and he wouldn't stand for it." Lyssa bowed her head now, remembering her idle state during the scene.

"Ay, but you'll all be hurting soon." A brutish voice promised. It belonged to a blonde Nord flanked by two men on either side. "Someone wants to teach you a lesson in blood, and we will be your instructors.


End file.
